


Lumos

by EmiliaTargaryen



Series: Felicity James [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter - Freeform, Hogwarts, Hogwarts First Year, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 50,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmiliaTargaryen/pseuds/EmiliaTargaryen
Summary: Felicity James was a just a normal girl on the morning of her eleventh birthday. Then, ushered in by a simple knock on her front door, Felicity’s life turned upside down.Author’s Note: I do not own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, the Weasleys, or any other recognizable characters in this story. It is an expansion of the existing Hogwarts universe as Felicity attends school alongside Harry Potter, although rarely interacting with him. I own only Felicity, Felicity’s family, and Ulric.
Series: Felicity James [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735996
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. The Bad Birthday

There was always something odd about that little cottage at the end of Rowan Street. Its inhabitants, a woman and her two children, were quiet and respectable and seemed perfectly normal in every way. And yet, they were regarded as strange and troublesome, particularly the children.

It was mostly to do with the abandoned manor up on Hangman Hill, which overlooked the town. The manor had once belonged to an important diplomat, who had mysteriously hung himself and earned the hill its title. The building was said to be haunted and the everyone was terrified to go anywhere near it.

Everyone except for the James family.

Esther James was a short, curvy woman with caramel-colored hair and gray eyes. She worked at the local pub every week morning and every weekend evening. Felicity James, Esther’s ten-year-old daughter, was of average height and weight, and had long brown hair that curled naturally around her shoulders. Her eyes were a unique shade of hazel, green around the pupil fading out into an amber-brown. Felix James also had brown hair, but his eyes, like his mother’s, were gray and he was particularly small for his age, which was five.

It was Felix that caused the unrest among the neighbors. He liked to play outside, detesting every second his mother kept him at the kitchen table, learning his vocabulary and numbers. It was his greatest joy to climb the hill to the crumbling manor and vanish through the crack in the east corner of the building. Rumors flew of what he was up to in there at all hours but, as no one was brave enough to follow him, no one knew for sure. Time and again, Esther forbade Felix from visiting the house on the hill. However, not having the heart to keep him inside, she couldn’t really stop him from eventually returning.

Felicity, like everyone else, was terrified of the house on Hangman Hill. She never would have dreamed of approaching the house anyway, as Felicity was as well-behaved as could be and never did anything against her mother’s wishes. That is, until the day of her eleventh birthday.

The day of Felicity’s birthday began like any other - Esther woke her children, made them breakfast, then sat them down to do their lessons before going to work at nine. Felicity and Felix finished their work, Felicity more or less forcing Felix not to run off early, before going outside to play until Esther returned at two. She had stopped at the bakery to pick up a small cake and was carrying a small package wrapped in plain brown paper.

By three o’clock, Esther was preparing tea to go with the cake. Felicity was curled up in the window seat that overlooked the front garden, engrossed in her birthday present - a leatherbound copy of _The Secret Garden_. Felix, unhappy at having to be indoors, was in the room he and Felicity shared, sulking.

With the tea finished, Esther called Felix from his room and lit the candles on Felicity’s cake. “Make a wish, sweetheart,” she said fondly, laying her hand across her daughter’s shoulders. Felicity thought hard for a moment, not sure what to wish for. She enjoyed her life here in Eagle Glen. Peaceful, if a little boring at times. Feeling she was taking too long, Felicity took a breath without a wish in mind. Before she could blow out the candles, however, there was a knock on the door.

Relieved for more time to consider her wish, Felicity exclaimed, “I’ll get it!” and bounded to the front door before her mother could stop her. She pulled the heavy door open and beheld two of the oddest-looking people she’d ever seen. The first was a boy about her own age, wearing green, pinstriped corduroy pants and a black blazer with padded shoulders. The other was an older man, dressed in a casual white suit over a blue shirt.

“Can I help you?” Felicity asked warily - she knew well not to trust strangers.

“Hey, kiddo!” the man said cheerfully. “Happy birthday! I’ve brought a cake.”

The man then pushed his way into the house, wobbling under the weight of his many parcels. The boy followed him obediently, giving Felicity a strange look as he passed.

Esther froze at the sight of the man entering their home, her expression quickly passing from surprise to barely contained anger. “Markus,” she said darkly. “How did you find us?”

“I never lost you,” said Markus simply, dumping his parcels on the couch and digging through them until he produced a large bakery box. He set it on the table and removed the lid with a flourish, revealing a lavish cake with real rosebuds and ribbons decorating it. “Couldn’t miss my niece’s birthday, could I?”

Esther crossed her arms tightly. “You missed the first ten.”

“I’m here for the most important one,” he replied, waving a dismissive hand. He then turned his attention to Felicity. She examined him with equal interest - he had dark, nearly black hair shot through with streaks of white. His features were all sharp, but none more so than his keen eyes. They were gray, nearly identical to Esther’s.

Finally, apparently satisfied with what he saw, Markus drew Felicity into a rather awkward hug and declared, “What a lovely young lady! Sure to be a credit to our family.”

“We have more family?” asked Felicity curiously. Her mother had never mentioned any living family, and got irritated when Felix or Felicity began asking questions about it. Now she had an uncle and possibly more!

“Certainly,” said Markus jovially. He had a very loud voice that seemed to bounce around the small room. “Your grandmother, Sybilla, and your ‘cousin,’ Sebastian.” He gestured to the boy, who was standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the living room, examining the family’s small, rarely-used television.

“Cousin?”

“Not really, but it rolls off the tongue more smoothly than ‘uncle’s ward.’” Markus chuckled at his own cleverness, now beginning to sort through the packages on the couch. “What first, dear? Presents or cake?”

“Markus,” said Esther firmly. “I don’t know why you’re here, but-”

“Felicity’s birthday,” Markus interrupted. “I’ve told you already.”

“Right.” Esther sounded unconvinced. “Anyhow, we don’t have the room for you or your...ward. And, at any rate, I don’t want you to…” She trailed off as Felix made his appearance, curiosity apparently overcoming his sullenness. Her tone softened and she said to Felicity, “Why don’t you take your brother and your, er, cousin out to see the back garden? I think the bluebells are blooming.”

Felicity longed to know what she was about to miss, but obeyed, taking Felix’s hand and leading the way down the hall, through their mother’s bedroom, and out the back door, Sebastian trailing behind them.

The instant they were gone, Markus rounded on Esther. “You haven’t told her anything, have you?”

“There’s nothing to tell her,” Esther snapped, slamming a hand on the table, “and I won’t have you filling her head with dreams she’ll never fulfill!”

“You were always so bloody proud, weren’t you? Can’t stand that your own kids might have more talent than you,” Markus sneered.

“I don’t want them disappointed. If you’re only here to stir up trouble, you can just leave now. We don’t want anything to do with you and you certainly have no interest in being part of our family.”

“You speak so certainly,” said Markus, shaking his head. His loud voice had softened and crossed his arms as he continued, “Why wouldn’t I want my niece and nephew, whom I only just learned I have, to be a part of the family?

“Because you don’t even know if they’re like you!” exclaimed Esther, throwing up her hands in frustration.

“You assume they’ll inherit your lesser blood, Astoria, but-”

“It’s Esther now.”

Markus hissed distastefully. “It doesn’t matter. As I was saying, you assume they’ll take after you.”

“You can’t know-”

“But I do, dear sister,” he said smugly, pulling a heavy envelope from his pocket. “Didn’t you wonder how I knew about your children in the first place? Dumbledore contacted me himself, asked if I wanted to give you the good news myself.”

Esther eyed the envelope in Markus’ hand as though it were a bomb, able to explode at any moment. Her heart leapt as she saw _Felicity James_ on the front of it in familiar handwriting. Could it be? “She got in.”

“Of course, she did,” said Markus . “Now, you’ve got to act quickly if we’re to get her prepared. She’ll be as bad off as a Mudblood at this point. Damage control.”

“Don’t use that word.”

“Don’t be such a ninny. Now, let’s talk about her learning. So much she needs to know…”

As the adults settled into somewhat civil conversation, Felicity was having problems out in the garden. The James’ back garden was small, ringed by a low, stone wall surrounded by small shrubs. The back wall of the house was covered in ivy and the bluebells were, indeed, blooming.

The moment they’d stepped outside, Sebastian had said, “You don’t know anything, do you?”

“What?” asked Felicity, confused.

“About our world. Markus said you might not, and he was right.”

“I know things,” Felicity protested. Was he calling her stupid?

“Not important things,” said Sebastian, scowling at her. “Bet you haven’t even heard of Hogwarts, have you?”

Of course, Felicity never had heard of Hogwarts, whatever it was, but she didn’t want him to think she was a nitwit. So, crossing her arms, she said, “I might have.”

“You have,” Sebastian smirked, “or you haven’t. And I think you haven’t.”

“What is it, then?”

“It’s a school. A school of magic.”

Felicity blinked. “A...what?”

“Cool!” Felix exclaimed.

“Very cool,” said Sebastian, grinning at Felix. “Best school there is, Hogwarts. Not sure how you got in, though. You don’t even know any magic, do you?”

“This is rubbish,” Felicity snapped. “There’s no such thing as Hogwarts. There’s no such thing as magic.”

Felix frowned. “Aw.”

“If magic’s not real, explain this,” said Sebastian, pulling a thin piece of wood from his inner coat pocket.

Felicity stared blankly at it. “It’s a stick.”

“It’s a wand.”

“So do some magic, then.”

Sebastian frowned. “Can’t. Not allowed to use magic outside of school.”

“Convenient.”

Frown turning to an angry scowl, Sebastian said, “It’s true! Markus will show you when he’s done arguing with your mum. It’s her fault you’re like this, anyway.”

“Leave my mum alone,” Felicity snapped.

“Why? She’s a liar. She lied to you.”

“About what?”

“About what you are.”

“And what’s that?”

“A witch.”

Felicity stared incredulously at Sebastian, not sure what to say. This was all ridiculous, of course, but there was something sincere in his expression, in his caramel-colored eyes. Now that she looked more carefully, he seemed older than her - maybe thirteen or fourteen. Sebastian ran a hand through his dark curls and started to say something else, but was cut off by Felix tugging on his sleeve.

“Hey,” said Felix, “ _I_ think magic is real.”

“Good on you, but-”

“Because I read it,” he continued, pointing toward Hangman Hill. “There’s lot of diaries and weird stuff up there. I think witches lived there, maybe.”

Sebastian looked up at the manor with renewed interest. “Really? Let’s see it, then.”

“No!” exclaimed Felicity. “We’re not allowed. You’re not supposed to be going in there anymore.”

“Come on, James,” said Sebastian, finally smiling. The effect made him look much more likeable - if he hadn’t spent the last several minutes insulting her, Felicity might’ve even wanted to be his friend. As it was, she was eyeing him distrustfully. He crossed his arms at her expression and said, “Afraid of ghosts?”

Felicity stuck her chin out. “No.”

“Prove it.”

Felicity glanced at the house. How long would the adults talk before they came looking for them? Throwing caution to the wind, she said, “Fine, we’ll go. But quick, before we’re missed.”

“Come on!” said Felix excitedly, hopping the wall and leading the way up the hill. Felicity followed uncertainly, trying to avoid looking at Sebastian, who was sticking uncomfortably close to her side. It took a few minutes to reach the top of the hill and Felicity looked back anxiously - no one had emerged from her house.

Felix led them around to the corner, where a large tree had fallen on the house and left a gaping hole. Felicity and Sebastian watched as Felix climbed onto the tree and leapt easily through the hole. They were silent for a moment before Sebastian cleared his throat and said, “Ladies first.”

Shrugging, ignoring her heart pounding in her chest, Felicity scrambled up the tree and through the opening into the house. Inside was cool and dim. Dust motes floated in beams of sunlight streaming in through cracked window panes. A layer of grunge lay over everything - the floors, the light fixtures, the pieces of furniture that no one had bothered to put tarps over. It seemed to be a cross between a sitting room and a study.

Beneath the dust, Felicity could see that the place had once been beautiful - the furnishings were elegant and high-end, the light fixtures ornate and fancy, and the walls hung with posed portraits of serious-looking people.

“Over here,” said Felix, waving Felicity over to a bookshelf. She picked her way around the bits of ceiling that had collapsed over time, careful not to trip, and examined the shelves. They were lined with thick volumes, bound with heavy covers. The bottommost shelf had smaller books, leatherbound - journals.

Sebastian plucked a diary from the shelf, flipped it open, and read aloud, “‘Time passes and I’m beginning to forget her face. My self-imposed exile seems pointless without her and, yet, I can’t bring myself to return to my old world. I gave up everything I am for her and now I am lost. Sometimes I can feel her presence, though I know she has long moved on.’ Bloody hell, what a depressing bloke.”

Felicity looked at Sebastian, about to speak, but hesitated as a flicker of movement over his shoulder caught her attention. She squinted past him, but saw only another portrait. It was of a woman with pale blonde hair and a stern expression.

“Sissie?” asked Felix, eyes widening as Felicity drifted toward the portrait. “You okay, Sissie?”

“Yeah,” she said vaguely, eyes fixed on the picture. She’d been so sure she’d seen...but it wasn’t possible, was it? No, certainly not…

Then, right as she was about to turn back to the boys, the eyes in the portrait moved. Felicity shrieked, stumbling backward. A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and she jerked around, screaming.

_Bang!_

With a flash, Sebastian was thrown across the room and into a wall. Felix shouted and stumbled backward into the bookshelf, knocking down several of the thick volumes. Felicity stood shaking, staring at the cloud of dust rising from the place where Sebastian had vanished through the wall.

Seconds later, he emerged, swearing and holding his shoulder. “Bloody hell, Felicity,” he said, “you threw me through a wall!”

“I- I didn’t mean- that wasn’t-”

Sebastian stopped in front of her and frowned, looking mildly concerned. “Hey, it’s okay. It was an accident.”

“But I… I don’t understand.”

“Me, either,” whined Felix.

“Accidental magic. It happens sometimes. It’s no big deal...but that did hurt, you know.” Sebastian scowled and rubbed his shoulder again, cringing. “Now, why did you-”

A deep rumbling interrupted Sebastian’s question and the three of them blinked as dust began to drift down from the ceiling. The walls began to groan and Felicity could feel the floor trembling beneath her feet.

“Is- is this ghosts?” Felix whimpered.

“No, the ceiling’s coming down!” Sebastian exclaimed, throwing a quick glance at the damaged wall. The ceiling was beginning the sag where the wall had been holding its weight - it was going to collapse!

“Oh, my God,” Felicity breathed.

“Move,” said Sebastian, grabbing Felix’s wrist and pulling him to his feet. When Felicity didn’t move to follow them, he caught her arm, too, and shouted, “Move, stupid! Move!”

He managed to drag them both to the gap where they’d come in, giving Felicity a leg up and roughly shoving Felix out after her before scrambling out himself. They hit the ground hard, all three stumbling and rolling, tumbling out-of-control down the hill. Felicity and Felix his the bottom of the hill at the same time, several feet away from each other. Sebastian landed a moment later, crashing into Felicity and knocking the air from her lungs.

Stunned, the children lay in the grass at the base of Hangman Hill, too scared to move. Too scared to even speak.

Hearing the commotion from the hill, Esther and Markus rushed outside to behold the east wing of the manor crumbling before their eyes, expelling a cloud of dust that, even from so far away, made their eyes sting. Markus was the first to spot the kids at the foot of the hill and hurried toward them.

“Mom,” Felicity whimpered as the adults reached them.

Shaking with fear and fury, Esther helped Felicity and Felix up. They clung to her sides, tangling their hands into her dress and refusing to let go. Markus grabbed Sebastian roughly by the collar and pulled him to his feet. “What happened?” he demanded.

“It was an accident,” said Sebastian shamefully. “I wanted to see the house and...it was my fault.”

“Bloody right, it was your fault. You’re lucky you weren’t killed!”

“I’m taking my children inside,” Esther snapped at both of them. “You’d do well to go somewhere far away from me, before I do something we both might regret.”

“But Felicity’s lessons-”

“We’ll discuss it later. I’m so angry - I can’t look at you right now.”

Markus looked like he wanted to argue, but neighbors were beginning to gather to see what all the ruckus was about. Narrowing his eyes, Markus grabbed Sebastian’s arm, turned on the spot, and vanished.

Esther shook her head and, with arms around each of her children, hurried back into their cottage, firmly latching the door behind them and closing all the curtains, too. But the damage was done - what little good reputation they’d had with the townspeople was gone. The James family would forever be the ones who tried to destroy the historic house on Hangman Hill.


	2. Explanations

Two weeks passed.

Try as she might, Felicity could get no answers from her mother. Whenever she tried to talk about what had happened in the manor, her mother changed the subject or became suddenly busy with housework. It was maddening, but pressing her for information only made her irritable.

Felix was somewhat traumatized by the whole event, spending much more time indoors and having no remaining interest in Hangman Hill. Felicity didn’t bother trying to talk to him about it, either, as the first time she mentioned it, he’d clapped his hands over his ears and shouted for her to leave him alone.

Felicity had never felt so alone and confused as she did those two weeks. Though she tried to put it out of her mind, it nagged quietly at her, at all hours of the day. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to let it go.

One morning during the first week of June, while Esther was at work, there came a knock on the door. Felicity looked up from her book - she wasn’t expecting company. Setting _Alice in Wonderland_ aside, she went to the door.

On the doorstep stood the boy Felicity now associated with danger and dislike - Sebastian.

The moment she recognized him, Felicity attempted to slam the door on him, but he stuck his foot in the door and forced his way in. He closed the door behind him and looked down at Felicity cautiously, as though he expected her to brutally attack. Today, Felicity noted, he was dressed a little more conspicuously, in khaki pants and an overlarge, green sweater.

“What do you want?” Felicity demanded.

“I came to apologize,” he said. His deep voice was full of remorse, but Felicity didn’t buy it. When she showed no sign of accepting his apology, Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out an oddly shaped package. “I have a late birthday gift.”

“I don’t want anything out of _your_ pocket,” said Felicity stubbornly, crossing her arms.

“What if it’s something really nice?” he asked, giving her a crooked grin. “I reckon it has to be, to make up for nearly getting you killed. Though, to be honest, you did a lot of the actual endangering. Not that I didn’t talk you into it,” he added quickly.

Felicity was astonished by the drastic change from the Sebastian she’d first met to the one standing before her now. Instead of scowling and judgemental, he was now friendly and just a touch awkward. He stood with his back against the door, free hand in his pocket, waiting to see if Felicity would accept his gift.

With a sigh, Felicity reached out and wrapped her fingers around the oddly shaped gift. It was round and long, firm under her touch, and she unwrapped it curiously. It was a small, brass telescope, perfect for stargazing, and she fought the alarming urge to give Sebastian a hug. Instead, she gave him a sincere smile and said, “Thank you. I love it.”

“Brilliant,” said Sebastian, mirroring her smile.

There was a bit of an awkward silence then and, casting about for something to say, Felicity offered, “Why don’t we sit down?” She led the way to the sitting area, where she took the window seat and Sebastian sank into the oversized armchair. “So...where’s Uncle Markus?”

“In town, looking for your mum. See, we’ve got a letter for you.” He was smiling in a knowing way that made Felicity curious to know what she was missing.

“Oh?” she said casually, busying herself with turning the telescope over in her hands.

“Yeah, see, Markus gave me the honor of delivering your letter personally. Dumbledore didn’t know about your, ah, situation, so it’s bloody good that Markus asked him about it, actually. If it’d just been delivered the normal way, you might’ve just tossed it, dismissed it as a joke.”

“Why?” she asked, too curious about this letter to be offended by his jab at her “situation.”

“You’ll see,” said Sebastian, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an envelope, which he placed purposefully into her open palm. The paper was thick and slightly browned, as though it were quite old, and it was slightly heavy in her hands. Felicity blinked at the familiar address but unfamiliar name, for letters were always addressed to Esther James, not Felicity.

Itching to satisfy her curiosity, Felicity tore open the envelope and withdrew two pieces of similar paper. The first and frontmost paper was decorated in dark, elegant script that read _Dear Miss James-_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress_

Felicity read and reread the letter before looking skeptically up at Sebastian. She understood why, without explanation, she indeed would have tossed the letter straight into the bin. It must be some sort of joke, and she promptly told Sebastian so.

“Don’t be thick,” said Sebastian irritably. “Don’t you remember what you did last time we met? You sent me through a wall. That was magic.”

“Rubbish. There’s no such thing as magic.”

“Alright,” Sebastian said, standing up and pulling a long, thin stick from his pocket. It was the same one he’d shown her last time. He looked around, spotted Felicity’s pile of unopened birthday presents, and seized the topmost one. “Or this,” he added, tearing the paper off and brandishing a book in her face. The title read _Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_. “Or this.” Digging in his pocket, he produced a newspaper clipping. It was entitled _The Daily Prophet_ and Felicity had to look twice as she saw the photograph, a picture of a handsome, curly-headed man, smile and wave at her.

Felicity couldn’t think of a word to say as she spread the newspaper out in front of her and read incredible headlines such as _Ministry Captures Werewolf in London Underground_ and _Self-Stirring Cauldrons - A Revolution!_

Frowning, Felicity looked up at Sebastian, still suspicious. “And I suppose you still can’t show me magic. Because you can’t use it outside school.”

“But Markus can,” he said confidently. “He’ll show you when he arrives.”

“Why didn’t I get in trouble, then, if I did magic last time you were here?”

“That was accidental magic. You won’t get expelled or anything for that.”

“So this...this Hogwarts. It’s...it’s real?”

“Of course it’s real. Why would I make it up?”

“I don’t know you,” answered Felicity shortly.

“But you will,” he said with a laugh. “We’ll be such friends at Hogwarts, you’ll see. I'll show you all the secrets of the castle and teach you things no one else knows. I mean, no one knows the place quite like the damned Weasleys, but I know enough, I reckon. And wait until you-”

“I haven’t said if I’m going,” said Felicity quietly. Her head was spinning. Could she really be a…? Could magic really be real? And, if it was, could she really go off to this mysterious Hogwarts for who-knew-how-long, away from her mother and Felix and everything she knew?

Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it, a picture suddenly blossomed in her mind, a wonderful image of a secret, magical world something like out of _The Chronicles of Narnia_. And the thought was so irresistible that she forgot about leaving her home and family and asked softly, “Will I get a magic wand, too? Can I hold yours?”

Sebastian chuckled and held out his wand, adding as an afterthought, “Don’t point it at anything breakable.”

Felicity took the long wand, made of a handsome, light brown wood, and waited for some kind of magical feeling to wash over her. All she felt, however, was mildly foolish. She looked up at Sebastian and he mimed waving it. So, still feeling foolish, Felicity gave the wand an idle wave.

_Crash!_

Felicity shrieked as several books went flying violently off the shelf by the window, sending dust and paper scraps into the air and raining down like snow. Sebastian, choking, snatching his wand back.

Suddenly, the front door banged open, making Felicity shriek again, and Esther stormed in, Markus at her heels. “Felicity, wait, before you-” The two adults froze at the sight of their young charges, standing in the middle of an apparent dust storm and covered in bits of paper, ankle deep in scatter books, Felicity still clutching her letter in her left hand.

“I _told_ you to let me Apparate us, but _no_ ,” Markus said, rolling his eyes. “Now you’ve missed her expression.”

“Why are the books on the floor?” Esther asked. “Where’s Felix?”

“Here,” came Felix’s small voice. He was peering around the corner, drawn from his room by all the commotion. He took in the scene with wide eyes, curiosity burning in them, but stayed a safe distance from the mess.

“Felicity was stupid with my wand,” Sebastian said, answering Esther’s earlier question.

Esther sank into one of the kitchen chairs, running a hand over her tired face, and said, “I never thought I’d have to do this.”

“I told you so two weeks ago,” said Markus, making himself comfortable in the armchair.

“Is it true?” Felicity asked her mother. “Am I really a...a witch?”

“You will be, kiddo,” answered Markus jovially.

“Yes, you will. I suppose I have some explaining to do,” said Esther softly.

“I could, if you like.”

“No. No, you’ve done quite enough.”

“Alright, then. Felix, my boy, join us, won’t you?” Catching Esther’s expression, Markus shrugged his shoulders and added, “He’ll be going in a few years, so he should hear it, too, eh?”

“Felix is one, too?” Felicity asked, her face falling. She loved her brother, of course, but she couldn’t imagine having to look after him at school, too.

“Yes, but not for some years,” said Esther. “You get the letter when you’re eleven.”

“Everyone does? You, too?” she asked, turning her gaze to Sebastian.

“I’m a third year,” he confirmed. “There’s seven, in all.”

“What’s it like, Hogwarts?”

Sebastian grinned. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.” Then, giving her a pat on the shoulder, he brushed past her and took her vacated seat by the window. Felicity fought the urge to cringe at his touch, still not quite trusting him and still wary from the trouble he’d gotten them into two weeks ago.

“Sit down, Felicity,” said Esther tiredly. “You, too, Fee. I’ll start some tea.”

When Felicity and Felix were settled on the couch, tea cups clutched in their small hands, Esther settled herself and the table and took a deep breath, wondering where exactly to begin. Finally, she said, “Markus and I were born quite close together. Because of it, we were both going to get our Hogwarts letters at the same time. Because our family is all wizards, we just assumed we’d both be going. Your grandmother and her nieces, Narcissa and Bellatrix, were visiting and bore witness to it.

“An owl came, but there was only one letter. A letter for Markus. And, as it turned out, my name was never put down for Hogwarts because I… I was born without magic.”

“How come?” asked Felix.

“It happens sometimes,” said Esther sadly. “Just like a magical child can sometimes be born to a non-magic family, a non-magic child can sometimes be born to a magical one.”

“Mum was furious,” said Markus, oddly upbeat considering the subject. “She went right up to Hogwarts and gave it to old Dippet, but he showed her the list himself and there it was - my name, but not hers.”

“Is that why we never visit any family?” asked Felicity. “You’ve always said there was no one…”

“Yes, and I’m sorry for lying to you. I was afraid to even tell you about the wizarding world because I… I didn’t want you to be disappointed if you didn’t get the letter.”

“Of course, we forgive you,” said Felicity with a smile, going to her mother and wrapping her in a warm hug.

“So,” said Markus, standing up and stretching, as though the story had taken hours rather than a few minutes, “Felicity, are you ready to become who you were meant to be?”

Felicity looked from Markus to her mother and back again. Then, grinning, she answered, “Absolutely.”

“Fantastic. Now, let’s get this mess cleaned up, shall we?”

Markus drew his wand and gave it a wave. The books leapt from the floor, flying back onto the bookshelf in properly alphabetical order. The layer of dust that had settled on the floor and furniture, took to the air, swirling until it simply popped out of existence. The bits of paper scattered about the room gathered into a cluster and then soared, uniformly, into the wastepaper bin.

Felix and Felicity both watched this with wide eyes and Felix began to scream, “More, more, more magic!”

Felicity, feeling nervous and excited all at once, merely whispered, “Magic.”


	3. Family Reunion

Uncle Markus and Sebastian stayed with Felicity’s family for a time, Uncle Markus taking the couch and Sebastian sleeping on a mountain of blankets on the floor. Somewhere near the end of June, Esther woke the family up early in the morning, force-feeding them a quick breakfast, and then loaded everyone into the rusty old car that they’d be driving the three hours to London to get Felicity’s school supplies. She already had most of her books, which were what had been in her large stack of birthday presents.

“Barking mad,” Uncle Markus grumbled, glaring out the window as the countryside flew by. “Terrible way to travel. Don’t you have anything more efficient?”

“No Floo Powder,” answered Esther curtly. “And I’m not putting them through side-along Apparation at their age.”

Felicity, seated in the backseat with Sebastian, was occupied reading an article in the wizard newspaper - _The Nimbus 2000, A Broom Worth Buying!_ Felix was fast asleep in the seat between them, his head in Felicity’s lap.

“What is Quidditch?” she asked as she skimmed over the unfamiliar word.

“Blood hell,” Sebastian muttered.

“Be nice, Seb,” scolded Uncle Markus. To Felicity, he added, “It’s the wizarding sport. It’s played on brooms and it’s a bit like, erm...what’s that Muggle sport they do?”

“Soccer,” Esther supplied.

“Exactly. You’ve got to throw the ball to make goals and such. Easy enough, eh?”

Felicity gawked at him. “Um…”

“No matter, no matter,” he continued easily. “We’ll have you on the Slytherin team in no time.”

“Slytherin?”

“One of the Hogwarts houses. The lot of us have been in Slytherin, save a few...outsiders.”

“It isn’t a _crime_ to be sorted into another house,” said Esther shortly.

“Certainly not, if you’re a Muggleborn or a blood traitor, but it’s Slytherin for our noble family.”

“What are the others?” Felicity asked, but Esther and Markus were now arguing about blood status, leaving Sebastian to explain.

“There’s Ravenclaw,” he said, giving her a quick glance. “That’s probably second-best, they’re for if you’re clever. Hufflepuff’s a load of duffers, supposed to be hard workers. And Gryffindor’s for the ‘brave of heart’.”

“And you’re in Slytherin?”

“Of course.”

“What are they known for?”

“Getting what we want,” said Sebastian with a smirk.

“How much longer must we bump along in this ruddy old thing?” Markus suddenly asked. “We’re only a short way from mother’s, you know. We could…”

“No. We’re only a couple hours from London.”

“Bloody...Astoria, just take the next left.”

“I don’t want-”

“Don’t you think the children deserve to meet their grandmother? Don’t you think they’d want to?”

Esther grimaced, but put on the blinker and made the turn.

“Your grandmother will be so happy to finally meet you,” Markus said, glancing at Felicity in the rearview. “She’s talked of nothing else for weeks.”

“I’m sure,” Ether muttered.

“Of course, she was a bit doubtful whether you’d get in or not - the process is a bit dodgy, at best, isn’t it? - but I knew you would despite your disadvantage.”

“Disadvantage?” asked Felicity.

“Having a Muggle mother,” Sebastian answered. “Don’t feel bad about it, though. My dad was a Muggle.”

“A filthy business,” Markus said sourly. “Wizards marrying Muggles. Imagine, degrading yourself for something as foolish as love.”

“Let’s not get into it,” suggested Esther.

“She ought to know, though, so she’ll marry properly one day. Perhaps she and Narcissa’s boy-”

“They’re related, Markus.”

“Barely.”

“ _Legally_.”

“Alright, then. What about Seb? He’s not a blood relative.”

Felicity’s face went red. Sebastian bit back a grin, turning his head so Felicity couldn’t see. Mortified, Felicity said, “Uncle Markus, please-”

“No need to be bashful, dear,” laughed Markus. “My boy’s a handsome one, isn’t he?”

“Erm…”

“It’s alright, Felicity,” said Sebastian, shaking his head. “All the girls fancy me.”

Felicity turned her head and stared fixedly out the window. She was beginning to dislike spending so much time with her extended family.

Markus perked up suddenly, pointing out the window. “Here we go, take a right now. Yes, down that little road there.”

The group sank into silence as the car pulled up to an enormous, wrought-iron gate with two entwined serpents connecting in the center. Markus gave his wand a casual flick and the serpents separated as the gate swung open, allowing the car and its passengers to continue down the long drive.

At the end, they came into the shadow of an enormous manor, even larger than the one rotting on Hangman Hill. Felicity balked at the sheer size of it.

“Come along, then,” Markus said cheerily, stepping out of the car and leading the way up the sweeping front steps. Felicity stuck close to her mother’s side, wanting to hold her hand but also wanting to look brave in front of Sebastian. Felix followed her closely, one hand gripping her wrist tight enough to cut off blood flow.

The tall, gothic-style front doors opened into a marble foyer with a grand staircase flanked by two marble serpents, their eyes sparkling emerald. The ceiling was so high up that Felicity had to squint to make it out and the floor was so clean that they could see their reflections, pale and nervous-looking.

“Mother!” Markus called gaily, his voice echoing in the cavernous room. As they waited, Markus led them into a lavish sitting room full of the finest furniture. N ornate mantelpiece was nearly sagging under the weight of many trophies and framed photos. Upon closer inspection, Felicity found the pictures to be engraved with gold-plated tags along the bottoms of the frames. _Markus graduates top of class… Bellatrix and Rudolphus Wedding… Draco, Newborn…_ The trophies almost all had to do with “Services to the Ministry.”

“Our shelf of accomplishments,” a cold voice said, cutting through the near silence.

Felicity jumped, whirling around to find herself nearly nose-to-nose with a very pale woman with wild, black hair and eyes. She didn’t seem very old, but she resembled Markus too much to be anything but his mother. She was looking at Felicity with a disdainful expression.

“Shall we have tea?” Uncle Markus suggested, summoning one of the oddest creatures Felicity had ever seen. It was several heads shorter than her and had enormous eyes and batlike ears. It wore what looked like an old flour-sack as clothing. “Fetch the tea,” Markus told it. With a bow that nearly touched its nose to the floor, the creature scurried away.

Sebastian, who Felicity hadn’t noticed sidling up beside her, said quietly, “House elf. Servant.”

Felicity nodded and, turning her attention back to the woman before her, said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ah, yes, introductions!” exclaimed Markus. “Mother, this is your granddaughter, Felicity. Felicity, this is your grandmother, the noble Sybilla Black.”

Sybilla Black stared at Felicity for several more seconds, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, before turning on heel and saying to Markus, “She looks like the Muggle.” Felicity, who had no memories of her father, had no idea whether this was meant as an insult, although her sour tone suggested it was. “Hard to believe they accepted her, being half Muggle.”

“She’s still a witch, Mum,” said Markus casually. “More blood, you know.”

Sybilla turned her black eyes back to Felicity, appraising her. Her mouth seemed to be set into a constant frown. Finally, without a change of expression, she addressed Felicity directly, “Our house is old. The Black family dates back to the beginning of our history and we have no room for anything less than perfection in our family.”

Felicity shivered.

Esther spoke up, then, saying, “Hate to cut this visit short, but we really should be going. London does get awfully crowded midday.”

“What about tea?” Markus demanded.

“Another time, perhaps,” said Sybilla quietly. “Do give Cissy my best, if you see her.”

“Of course, Mum. I’ll get the Floo Powder.”

“Are you sure the little one can manage?” Her eyes flicked to Felix for a moment. He cowered under her cold gaze.

“He can manage.” Markus gave Felix’s shoulder a fond pat, then went to fetch the Floo Powder...whatever that was.

“You’re a clever one,” said Sybilla, returning her attention to Felicity. “But not, I think, of our noble stock. You lack the greatness of the house of Black. You’ll be a disappointment, I think, in the end.”

Esther opened her mouth to make an angry comment, but Felicity beat her to it, saying fiercely, “Then I hope I am a great disappointment, so I might prove to be your equal in the matter.”

Sybilla’s frown deepened, but there was a glint of something in her eye. “Just like him,” she muttered, seemingly more to herself than to Felicity. Just then, Uncle Markus returned, now garbed in a long, black cloak and carrying a silver dish full of a glimmering powder.

“Right, so, ladies first?” asked Markus, offering the dish to Felicity. When she looked questioningly at him, he explained, “You take a pinch, toss it into the fireplace, then say very clearly ‘Diagon Alley,’ and step into the flames.”

“Into the fire?”

“Exactly.”

“But…” Felicity looked around at her grandmother, whose frown had an amused pull to it, and squared her shoulder, taking a fistful of the powder and stepping up to the fire. The warmth from the flames seemed very real against her cheeks, but she reminded herself that she was a witch. She threw the powder into the grate and the flames sprung up at once, burning into a bright green color that she was quite terrified to step into. But she held her head high as she put one foot into the fire and, finding it to be perfectly cool, ducked her head as she stepped the rest of the way in.

Felicity turned to face her mismatched family. Felix was watching her fearfully, clinging to their mother, who met her eyes with a look of calm reassurance. Markus stood to her right, waving his hand as if to say go on. Across the room, Sybil stood with her frown in place, her eyes shadowed from view. Sebastian was at her side, his expression one of admiration, whether from her speech or her lack of hesitance, Felicity wasn’t sure.

Sucking in a breath, Felicity said, “Diagon Alley!”

In a great motion like being sucked down a drain, Felicity was set to spinning, faster and faster until she had to shut her eyes from dizziness. Everything seemed to be roaring in her ears, confusing her already scrambled head. But, quite suddenly, she was falling forward, barely managing to throw out her arms to prevent smashing her face on a stone floor.

Sitting up, slightly dazed, Felicity found herself in a grubby little pub full of oddly dressed people. Most were wearing cloaks like the one Uncle Markus had been wearing. A man off to one side of the room had on a turban, of all things. A bald, toothless man was smiling warmly at her and offered her a hand, which she took.

“Hogwarts, I presume?” he asked.

Felicity, relieved to know she’d ended up in the right place, nodded and turned around just in time to see Felix, head to toe in soot, tumble out of the fireplace. He began to wail the moment he hit the floor, having scraped his leg on the grate.

The bald man, looking slightly annoyed, flicked his wand. Before their eyes, Felix’s torn skin knitted itself back together, leaving no trace of the injury. This seemed to get Felix’s attention and he looked around curiously.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“The Leaky Cauldron,” answered the bald man. “I’m Tom. You might want to move, lad, as I expect your parents will be coming along shortly.”

Sure enough, seconds after Felix had scrambled to his feet, Esther stepped clumsily from the fireplace, looking a tad greener than usual. “Never got the hang of Floo Powder” she coughed, and stepped out of the way in time for her brother to step casually out of the grate.

“Excellent, everyone’s where they’re supposed to be, then,” he said after Sebastian stumbled out of the fireplace. “G’day, Tom.”

“Mr. Black,” Tom said with a slight bow.

“Well, then, let’s be off.”

Uncle Markus led them out the back door of the pub, into a dead-end alleyway. Shooting Felix and Felicity a knowing grin, he pulled out his wand and tapped a brick just above the trash bin and stepped back. The two siblings watched, jaws slack, as the bricks quivered and began to rearrange themselves, revealing a hole that steadily grew bigger.

It grew and grew until, at last, they were looking through an enormous archway into a cobblestone street, crowded with more oddly dressed people. Uncle Pete took one look at their stunned faces, grinned again, and said, “Welcome, my children, to Diagon Alley.”


	4. The Boy Who Lived

Felicity felt like she needed about fifty more eyes. As Uncle Markus led the way down Diagon Alley, holding onto Felicity’s shoulder and pointing out various people he knew, she saw more extraordinary things than she’d ever dreamed of. A shop just here was selling cauldrons by the pile. A store just beyond displayed racing brooms and other Quidditch supplies. As owl hooted at her from a lamppost.

“Oh, and there’s Lucius! Hello!” Markus called, dragging Felicity toward a shop called Flourish and Blotts, outside of which stood a man with long, silver hair and a thin face.

“Markus,” the man said coolly, nodding to the rest of the party before setting his eyes on Felicity. “Ah, the long-lost child.”

“Felicity, this is your Uncle Lucius. He’s married to your grandmother’s niece.”

“So you’re not an uncle,” said Felix. “Not really.” Mr. Malfoy - for Felicity wasn’t quite ready to call him ‘uncle’ - turned his cold, gray eyes upon Felix with a look of...was it interest?

“Ah, right,” said Markus, as though he’d forgotten the existence of his sister and nephew. “Lucius, this is my sister, Astoria, and her other child, Felix.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” Mr. Malfoy said distractedly, his eyes tracing over the shops across the alley. “I’m just picking up books for Draco. He’s having his robes fitted now.”

“Yes, we’ll be getting those soon enough. Just have to pop by Gringotts, of course.”

“How is your mother?”

“Excellent. Most pleased that Felicity’s gotten her letter. She wanted me to tell Cissy hello. Is she with you?”

“Looking at wands.”

“I want a wand,” Felix said eagerly.

“All in good time, kiddo,” Markus laughed, patting Felix’s head. “Soon as he heard, of course, it’s all he can think about. Heard him telling Seb the other night, ‘I’m going to Hogwarts if I have to fly there on Mommy’s broom!’”

“Determination is an admirable quality,” Mr. Malfoy said, that look of interest returning. It seemed to Felicity that he couldn’t decide whether or not to like them. “Perhaps he will bring respect back to his family.”

“I’m sure they both will. Well, give Cissy our best. Must be moving along.”

“Bye, Uncle Lucius!” Felix called over his shoulder as they left Mr. Malfoy. Felicity glanced back, but he had vanished into the sea of people crowding the street.

Further down Diagon Alley, they came upon a white building that towered over the other shops. They started up the front steps, passing through a set of marble doors. There was a second set just within, guarded on either side by two strange little men several inches shorter than her. He had pointed ears and a hooked nose and was smiling at them with his sharp little teeth bared.

Felicity drifted a little closer to the nearest person, who happened to be Sebastian. “Goblins,” he said, answering her unasked question. “Smart, but unfriendly at best.” His hand brushed hers and she quickly pulled it away, blushing. Sebastian didn’t seem to notice.

They walked through the doors and down a marble hall lined with high desks on either side, goblins working hurriedly and ignoring them wholly. At the end of the hall, they came upon a goblin gazing intently down at them. Markus spoke up in his usual cheery tone, “Hello, again. Feel like I haven’t seen you since last year.”

The goblin curled its lip and said curtly, “Yes. Griphook, if you will.”

Another goblin, this one shorter than Felix but nearly twice as wide, led the way to a door off the side of the hall. Here, Markus turned to Esther and said, “You can wait out here with Felix. Know you hate those carts.”

“But I wanna go!” Felix demanded, his face working into a well-practiced pout. “I wanna go.”

Esther, torn between her hatred of the Gringotts carts and her reluctance at leaving her children alone with Markus, said, “Oh, alright, go. I’ll wait out here, just...don’t let him fall out or get sucked into a vault or anything.”

“Excellent,” grinned Markus. “Off we go, then.”

So Markus, Felicity, Felix, and Sebastian followed Griphook through the door. Felicity was shocked to suddenly find herself in a dimly lit cavern. She could hear the sound of dripping water and their muffled footsteps as they approached a rather precarious-looking cart. Uncle Markus was the first to climb in, then an eager Felix, and Sebastian said, “Ladies, first,” and watched Felicity clamber in before getting in himself - then they were off.

Felicity felt her stomach lurch as the cart sped through a series of passages, moving too fast for her to keep track of where they were. Felix let out a shout of excitement as they dropped down a steep incline and then quite suddenly shot back up again. Beginning to feel quite sick, Felicity clenched her eyes shut. A hand grabbed hers, but she didn’t dare open her eyes to see who it belonged to.

Finally, the cart shuddered to a halt and Griphook said, “Vault 657.”

When it opened, Felicity was amazed at what she saw. The vault was the size of a large bedroom, the walls piled high with all sorts of treasure. In the middle of the room was a table groaning under an enormous pile of gold, silver, and bronze pieces. But what kind of money was it? She picked up one of the odd coins as Uncle Markus chuckled, “A lot different than Muggle money, eh? All those paper bills.” He shook his head. “Just nonsense.”

As if he had the right to call something nonsensical, Felicity thought.

Felicity marveled at the coins for a few more seconds while Markus produced a green, suede pouch and loaded it with the gold coins. Felicity counted around thirty of them as they disappeared into the bag. Markus closed it and handed it to Sebastian, then produced a second bag, the same size and color, but with silver beads that made it sparkle. He filled it similarly and handed it to Felicity, who took it with trembling fingers.

“For me?” she asked breathlessly.

“Pocket money,” said Uncle Markus, as though he hadn’t just handed her what was probably more money than her mom made in a month. After filling his own bag with more than twice as much as Felicity’s, Markus glanced at Felix, who looked expectant, and said, “You don’t need any spending money yet, my boy, but I’ll buy you a treat before we head home.”

Felix started to protest, but Felicity silenced him with a look. He followed the party, pouting, back out into the tunnel and into the cart. His grumpiness, however, flew away with the intense wind as the cart shot back up toward the surface. Felicity made no attempt to keep her eyes open this time. At one point, Felix shouted, “Look at that!” but, by the time Felicity wrenched her eyes open, whatever it was had vanished.

Once they were back in the fresh air, Uncle Markus led the way back down the street. They visited Madam Malkin’s first. Madam Malkin was a plump but pleasant woman who cheerfully went along with Felix’s demand to be measured for robes even though he didn’t need any. Felicity was fitted, as well, while Sebastian had his own robes tailored and compared their supply lists.

Next, they went into a shop to buy basic school items. Markus and Sebastian broke off to look for things Sebastian needed for his third year. Felix kicked and screamed until Esther agreed to take him down the street to Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, which left Felicity alone to look for her own supplies. The choices were somewhat overwhelming. She had just spotted a bottle of color-changing ink and had reached for it when another hand knocked into hers.

“Sorry,” said the owner of the hand, which turned out to be a boy Felicity’s age. He had black hair, taped glasses, and was wearing clothes much too big for him. “You take it.”

“No, I just wanted to look at it,” Felicity insisted.

“Thanks.” He picked up the bottle and shuffled his feet nervously.

“Are you new, too?” Felicity asked. “To this, er, magic stuff?”

“Yeah,” he replied, looking relieved not to be the only one. “Are you from a Muggle family?”

“Sort of. It’s a long story. What about you?”

“It’s a long story,” he said with a slight smile. Then, expectantly, “I’m Harry Potter.”

Not sure why he felt the need to include his last name, Felicity reached out to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Felicity James.”

Harry looked surprised - yet oddly pleased - at her casual tone. “Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose.”

As Harry hurried away to pay for his color-changing ink, a hand came down on Felicity’s shoulder and she jumped. Sebastian was at her elbow, gawking after Harry. “Bloody hell, that was Harry Potter! Did you see his scar?”

“You know him?”

“Haven’t you heard of Harry Potter? He brought down You-Know-Who!”

“Who’s that?”

Sebastian shook his head. “You’re hopeless. You-Know-Who was a dark wizard, worst of the lot. He led this big war and everyone’s scared stiff of him. But he tried to kill Harry Potter and he couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?” Felicity asked, looking to where Harry had vanished between the shelves.

“No one knows why, just that he’s gone and Harry Potter is the reason. He’s the only one You-Know-Who ever failed to kill.”

“But...he’s my age.”

“He was just a baby when it happened. Wouldn’t even remember it, would he?”

“What about his parents?”

“Killed by You-Know-Who.”

Felicity frowned, her heart going out to the orphaned boy. She couldn’t imagine having to go through life without her mom or even Felix. “Poor Harry.”

“Poor Harry nothing. He’s famous now,” Sebastian scowled. “Famous for something he can’t even remember. ‘The Boy Who Lived.’”

. . .  
“So, we’ve got robes, quills, ink, potion stuff, the rest of your books...That just leaves…”

Felicity looked up from the shockingly green cover of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ to see what Uncle Markus was gesturing at - a battered old shop with a sign over the door reading _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ As he’d often done throughout the day, Sebastian leaned down and muttered an explanation to Felicity. “Best wandmaker there is, Ollivander. He’s a bit odd, though, so mind you don’t stare.”

Uncle Markus hung back with Felix, offering to take him into Quality Quidditch Supplies, and the remaining three entered Ollivander’s shop.

Felicity immediately got the impression of a library - everything was hushed and she felt like the slightest sound would disturb the peace. Small, thin boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling in neat rows, some dustier than others. Sebastian leaned casually against the door; Esther bent over a pile of wands near the front window; Felicity looked around nervously for the shop owner.

Then, out of nowhere - “Good afternoon.”

Felicity jumped; a clatter of boxes told her that her mother had jumped, as well.

Mr. Ollivander, having appeared quite suddenly from between the shelves, had fixed Felicity with a cool gaze, his translucent eyes seeming to see right through her. “Miss James, at last.”

“Afternoon, Ollivander,” Sebastian said calmly.

Turning his gaze to Sebastian, Mr. Ollivander replied enthusiastically, “Ah, young Mr. Black. Willow and dragon heartstring, I recall. Ten inches, I believe it was.”

“Yes, sir, but we’re here for Felicity’s wand.”

“Yes, yes. Another from the Black family line. There were many doubts if their branch would continue in magic, but I, of course, never had any doubts. Come, come. Let’s see, now…”

Mr. Ollivander swept away, flitting between the shelves and plucking several boxes from the various shelves. Felicity couldn’t imagine how he remembered where they all belonged. When he returned, he opened a box and placed a black wand in her hand. “Oak and unicorn hair.”

Felicity held it for a moment and glanced at Sebastian, who mimed waving it. She went to raise her arm but, before she could bring it down, Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand away, muttering, “No, no...perhaps this…”

It went on for several minutes, wands being given and snatched away until Mr. Ollivander handed her a light-colored wand that she immediately thought quite pretty. “Maple and phoenix feather, eleven inches, surprisingly swishy. We shall see…”

But Felicity didn’t need to see. The moment the wand was placed in her hand, she knew it was the one. A warmth seemed to rush through her fingertips and a supreme feeling of completeness overwhelmed her.

“Yes, yes, this is the one,” Ollivander said. “Curious creatures, phoenixes. Very curious, indeed…”

Felicity, still lost in euphoria, didn’t think to ask just what was curious about phoenixes.


	5. Departure

The day they were to leave for Hogwarts, Sebastian woke Felicity up before dawn. He dragged her from the house, the roundabout way around Hangman Hill, and into a large patch of tall trees at the foot of the mountain. By the time they’d arrived, Felicity had gathered that Sebastian was going to impress her with his flying skills, as he’d brought along his Nimbus 1700. They walked for a long time until they came across a rather spacious clearing that Felicity had never been in.

“Took me forever to find a place I could practice without being spotted,” Sebastian was complaining as they broke into the clearing.

“I’ve never been in the woods,” said Felicity nervously, envisioning wolves or other dangerous beasts watching them between the trees.

“Really? If I lived in the country, I’d be out here all the time.”

“Don’t you live with Uncle Markus? In that big manor?”

“Yeah, but there’s a family of Muggles living nearby and there’s no trees or nothing, so I can’t really practice outside.”

“So where do you practice?”

“The ballroom.”

“Your house has a ballroom?”

“Yeah, well, the Black family used to host a lot of events and such. Not so much, lately, since Markus never settled down and Madam Black is ‘too old to be a proper hostess for grand events.’”

“How old is she?” asked Felicity, shuddering and push away the mental image of her grandmother as it surfaced in her mind.

“She won’t say,” Sebastian answered with a shrug. “So, ready to fly?”

“Me?” squeaked Felicity.

“Yeah, you.”

Felicity eyed the broom as though it were a time bomb about to go off. “You’re joking. I can’t fly!”

“Not yet. I’ll teach you. Anyone can do it, Felicity, just give it a go.” When she hesitated, Sebastian put on his customary smirk and said, “Not scared, are you?”

Gathering her courage, Felicity took the broom and looked expectantly at Sebastian, who rolled his eyes.

“You have to get on it,” he said slowly, as though talking to an infant. Feeling more and more foolish by the moment, Felicity mounted the broom and waited for further instruction. “This isn’t quite how she’ll teach you at Hogwarts, but at least you won’t look like a bleeding idiot in front of the class. Now, what do you think comes next?”

“Er...I fly?”

“Yes, but _how_?”

“Well, I expect I just sort of…”

A strangled shriek escaped Felicity’s lips as she pushed off the ground and the broom began to rise up. “Aim it, aim it!” Sebastian shouted as she started to drift toward the left. Trying to steady herself, Felicity jerked the handle to the right, accidentally twisting around completely until she was facing the opposite direction as she’d started. “Easy does it, now. Easy, Felicity. Just lean and-”

Felicity didn’t hear what came next because, as soon as she’d leaned forward, the broom had shot forward at a speed she wouldn’t have thought possible. “Stop, stop, stop!” she shouted at the broom, pulling backward until the broom stopped, leaving her suspended nearly twenty feet off the ground. Trying to not sound as panicked as she felt, Felicity shouted, “What do I do now?”

“Keep calm!” Sebastian called. “Just relax, okay? Small corrections. Lean forward _slightly_.”

Felicity complied, leaning forward enough to make the broom begin to move forward. Encouraged, she angled the handle down and gently drifted to the ground. Sebastian came to meet her, offering a hand to steady her as she dismounted. She shocked both Sebastian and herself by throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. Sebastian, unsure how to react to this, awkwardly patted her shoulder. Once her heartbeat had steadied, Felicity pulled away from him, her face burning.

“So, er...can we go home now?” she asked, looking off into the trees.

Sebastian rubbed the back of his head, just as unable to look at Felicity as she was him. “I mean, don’t you want to try again?”

“No, I think I’ve, er, had enough for one day.”

To Felicity’s surprise, Sebastian replied, “Alright. Let’s go,” and swung the broom over his shoulder before leading the way back into the woods.

Felicity followed closely behind Sebastian, her thoughts racing. Why had she hugged him like that? It had been so stupid and awkward, but she’d been so scared up in the air and even her feet on the ground hadn’t seemed enough - and Sebastian had just looked so steady.

“So,” said Sebastian after a brief silence, “I reckon I shouldn’t apply for flying instructor when I finish Hogwarts.”

“Maybe you could be master of yelling at people,” Felicity suggested, giving a shaky laugh.

“I didn’t yell. I raised my voice so you could hear me properly.”

“Right. I suppose it’s easier when you’ve been doing it your whole life. Flying, I mean.”

Sebastian was quiet for a moment, then said, “I haven’t.”

“Haven’t what?”

“Been flying my whole life. I, well…” Sebastian glanced at Felicity, looking conflicted. “You can’t say anything, but, truth is...I grew up in an orphanage. A Muggle orphanage. Ten years.”

Felicity was silent as they reached the edge of the trees, her house coming into view. Quite suddenly, Sebastian reached out and grabbed Felicity’s arm, pulling her to a stop. He met her curious gaze, saying seriously, “I mean it, Felicity. Don’t tell anyone I told you that. Markus doesn’t want anyone to know and...and I owe him a lot. He didn’t have to come get me. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had anything, you know.”

“Why did he?” asked Felicity. “I mean, he doesn’t seem…”

“Fatherly?” finished Sebastian, with a half-hearted smile. “No, he’s not, I suppose. It’s more about continuing the family name. Not married, no kids… he kept watch of the Hogwarts list - he’s got connections, I suppose - and, eventually, found my name. Reckon one of my parents was magic.”

“You don’t know which?”

“No. Markus won’t tell me.”

“You could do research, you know,” Felicity suggested. “If you knew the orphanage name, they might have some records…”

“I don’t think they’d know who my parents were. And I’m honestly not sure I care.”

“You’re happy living with Uncle Markus and…”

Sebastian kicked at a clump of grass, looking at the branches over their heads. “It doesn’t matter. I’m adopted into the Black family. They tell people I’m his child from an anonymous witch who didn’t want nothing to do with him. Didn’t even tell him about me until she was on her deathbed.”

His smile had grown brittle, bitter, and Felicity was worried that the conversation was veering into unstable territory. So, reaching out and giving his hand a squeeze, she said, “I won’t tell a soul.”

A look of relief washed over Sebastian’s face, his smile relaxing, and he said, “Thanks.”

“You should still look into those records,” Felicity suggested. “I mean, if I were in your place, I’d want to know where I came from, you know?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian agreed vaguely.

Sensing growing tension, Felicity changed the subject, beginning to trot toward the house, “So, did you make a fool of yourself your first time on a broom?”

“Right, like I’ll ever tell you that,” Sebastian grinned. “As far as you’ll ever know, I’m a bloody prodigy. Brilliant on a broom, a natural athlete.”

The conversation stayed light all the way back to the house and the two rather avoided each other for the rest of the morning. Within the hour, Esther had roused Felix and Markus and began making preparations for the journey to London. It wouldn’t be so long this time and, to Felicity’s great relief, they wouldn’t have to pay another visit to the Black manor.

Once again, they were travelling by Floo Powder to The Leaky Cauldron. From there, it was a short walk to King’s Cross Station, where Felicity and Sebastian would be boarding the Hogwarts Express. Felicity’s heart jumped every time she thought about it.

Esther was alive with a nervous energy, fussing over Felicity’s trunk and the state of Felix’s clothes and all manner of silly things as the clock ticked closer to eleven o’clock. By ten, Markus, sick of Esther’s worrying, suggested they leave a little early. He retrieved the bag of Floo Powder he’d brought from home and started a fire in the family’s small fireplace.

“Care to go first?” Markus offered, holding the bag out to Esther. “Be there when the children arrive. They might wander off, otherwise.” He eyed Felix pointedly as he said this.

Reluctantly, Esther took a handful of powder and tossed it into the fire, having to stoop to step in. The moment she’d vanished, Markus let out a sigh. “Always a bloody worry wart,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Felix?”

It took some convincing to get Felix to step into the fire, still rather scarred from his last Floo Powder experience, then Sebastian went, shoving his trunk and caged owl quickly into the green flames before stepping in himself.

“I’ve got your trunk,” said Markus as he finally offered the powder to Felicity. She was about to reach into the bag when Markus unexpectedly closed his fist around it. When Felicity looked up at him, confused, he said softly, “Do try and make us proud. I’d hate to have put my faith where it didn’t belong.”

Felicity stared with wide eyes, not sure what to say. In the past month, Markus had begun to grow on her, with his little endearments. He was charismatic, if nothing else. She’d even begun to overlook the subtle insults often hidden beneath his words when he spoke about certain people or topics. Now, truly alone with him for the first time, seeing the way he looked at her...like she were an unruly dog he was attempting to train...it made her uncomfortable.

When the silence had stretched to a nearly unbearable length, Felicity managed to whisper, “Yes, Uncle.”

Instantly, Markus’ face broke back into his charming smile. “That’s my girl. Go on, then. Don’t want to be late.” He rolled his eyes and looked at the clock. It was barely ten minutes past.

Felicity grabbed a handful of powder and gratefully turned her back on her uncle. Her head was spinning from their brief exchange and her heart was beating hard against her ribs. For just a moment, before she had answered him, she had felt…unsafe.

Moments later, Felicity was stepping out of the fireplace in the grubby pub. Markus joined the family a moment later, dragging Felicity’s loaded trunk behind him. They set off, getting several odd looks from passing Muggles - it wasn’t every day you saw someone carrying a caged owl down the road, after all.

The walk gave Felicity time to compose herself and, by the time they reached the station, she’d managed to bury her fear and replace it with appropriate curiosity. The station was crowded and Felicity looked all around, expecting to see other groups with trunks and owls. All she saw, however, were normal people, hurrying to catch their trains.

“Where are all the wizards?” Felix asked loudly, earning a shush from Esther.

“We’ve got to get onto the platform first, my boy,” said Markus. “Ladies first?”

Felicity looked around, confused. Markus was gesturing to the brick wall between platforms nine and ten. “Which platform is it?”

“That’s the interesting bit,” said Esther, looking unusually excited. “I never got to do this, myself, since Mum left me at home. The platform is number nine-and-three-quarters.”

Felicity blinked, waiting for the punchline, which she’d apparently missed. When no explanation was offered, however, she realized that it wasn’t a joke at all. “Well...how do you get on the platform, then? Is there a… a secret switch or panel or…?”

“Just follow my lead,” Sebastian cut in, giving Felicity’s shoulder a squeeze. He wheeled his cart, laden with his trunk and owl, to face the barrier. Then he began to walk at a brisk pace toward it. He picked up speed as he approached and, a moment later, he had gone.

Felicity’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Come on,” said Esther, taking Felicity’s hand. She looked over her shoulder at Markus. “Bring Felix, will you?”

Leading the way, Esther turned them to face the barrier and began to stroll toward it. Felicity matched her pace, her palms beginning to sweat. The barrier looked awfully solid to her. They broke into a sprint just feet from the bricks and Felicity clenched her eyes shut, braced for impact…

They stopped.

Opening her eyes, Felicity couldn’t stifle a gasp of surprise. They were on a platform crowded with parents and children bustling about to get their luggage onto the train, a scarlet steam engine with the words Hogwarts Express across the front.

“Wow,” Felicity breathed.

“My thoughts precisely,” her mother replied in the same amazed tone.

“Move along,” came Markus’ voice just behind them - he and Felix had arrived with Felicity’s trunk. “Don’t want it to leave without us, eh?” He elbowed Esther jokingly - her lips pursed like she’d just sucked on a lemon.

“Come sit with me,” Sebastian suggested, taking Felicity’s arm and leading her toward the train. They approached a compartment that was already occupied by a blonde girl looking at herself in a compact mirror, a pointed-faced boy with silver hair, and two large boys that flanked the other, looking rather like bodyguards.

“Hello, Seb,” said the silver-haired boy brightly.

The girl with the mirror looked up, beaming at them. “Bastian. Finally! Thought you’d never get here!” She reached out and kissed Sebastian, making Felicity’s face go red. She quickly stepped away, only to be grabbed by Uncle Markus.

“Felicity,” Markus said jovially, “this is Draco Malfoy. You met his father in Diagon Alley, you remember?”

“Yes,” said Felicity faintly. She could still hear Sebastian being kissed just behind her and it was enormously distracting.

“I’m sure you’ll be good friends at Hogwarts, so I’ll leave you to it. Have a good term, you two.”

He gave Felicity a brief hug and then departed, off to bother Lucius, no doubt.

“Felicity, was it?” Draco asked, looking only mildly interested in her. He gestured to the burly boys to either side of him. “This is Crabbe and Goyle. Will you be in Slytherin, too?”

“Erm…”

“Felicity?” came Esther’s voice from outside.

“That’s me,” Felicity said, relieved for an escape. She cast another glance toward Sebastian and instantly regretted it - it looked like the girl was trying to suck his face off. Stepping off the train, Felicity found her mother waiting for her. Felix was nowhere around. “Where’s Felix?”

“Made friends already,” Esther replied, pointing. Felix was a short distance away, talking to two red-headed twin boys, who seemed to be greatly entertaining him.

“That makes one of us.”

“Now, listen to me,” said Esther, crouching down and taking Felicity’s hands. There were unshed tears in her gray eyes. “You’re going to have a wonderful time. You’re going to make great friends and learn magic and grow into an amazing young woman. These will be the best years of your life.”

“Do you wish you’d gone?” Felicity asked, already knowing the answer.

Esther looked down sadly, but then smiled. “It wouldn’t have suited me. But you’re going to love it.”

“What if I don’t fit in.”

“No matter what happens, Felicity, you’ll always fit in.” She pulled Felicity into her arms. “Right here.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Felicity whispered, clinging tightly to her. It occurred to her that this was the last time she’d be seeing her mother and brother until Christmas - four months. The thought made her ache terribly.

A whistle blew overhead and Esther jumped up. “You’ve got to go. Have a fantastic time, alright? Just be yourself. Write to us.”

“Bye, Mum.”

Felix, who was just wandering back over to them, surprised Felicity by throwing his arms around her waist. “Bye, Lissie.” She returned the hug fondly, but scowled when whispered to her, “Take me with you.”

“Goodbye, Felix,” she said firmly, stepping away from him and onto the train. She made her way back to her compartment. Sebastian and the girl, thankfully, had separated and were sitting across from each other. The compact mirror was back in front of her face. Sebastian was involved in an arm-wrestling match with Crabbe, and Malfoy was complaining to Goyle about not being allowed a broom at school. Felicity passed them all to look out the window, waving to her mother when she spotted her.

The train pitched, beginning to rumble forward. Felicity pressed her hands against the glass, straining to watch her family as long as she could. But, all too soon, the train rounded the corner and they were gone.


	6. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

Felicity grimaced as Malfoy told yet another story of some heinous thing his father had done to the family’s house elf. Although she’d wanted to like him at first, the past half hour had proved him to be pompous, entitled, and an overall rich brat. She was eager to escape the compartment, but Sebastian had his feet up on the seat opposite him, blocking the door, and she felt it would be rude to step over him. The girl, Katrina, had moved next to him and Felicity was left to sit between her and the window.

Soon enough, the conversation turned to Harry Potter.

“So you’ve seen him?” Katrina was asking Sebastian.

“Yeah,” he shrugged.

“They say he’s got a scar like lightning on his head,” said Goyle, sounding impressed.

“From where You-Know-Who tried to kill him?” asked Crabbe.

“No, from falling off his broom,” said Sebastian sarcastically. “I only glimpsed him in Diagon Alley. Felicity talked to him, though.”

All eyes turned to hers. Malfoy, his cold eyes holding a glimmer of interest, asked, “What was he like?”

Felicity shrugged, awkward under so many eyes. “Just like any other boy, I expect. He was nice enough.” She didn’t feel like sharing the details of their bonding over shared insecurities.

“Did you see his scar?” Malfoy demanded, sounding fascinated. “Did he talk about You-Know-Who?”

“I didn’t know to ask. Didn’t know who he was.”

“Well, what did he look like?” pressed Malfoy, obviously irritated Felicity’s lack of information.

“Lay off her, Malfoy, she probably can’t remember,” Sebastian cut in. Malfoy looked surly at that. Crabbe cracked his knuckles menacingly, causing Sebastian to let out a bark of a laugh. “Go on and hit me, then. I know spells that could have you hanging by your ankle with your trousers missing.”

Crabbe scowled, but stopped the knuckle cracking.

Katrina, rolling her eyes at the boys, turned to Felicity and asked, “Who did he have with him, then? He couldn’t have been alone.”

Felicity looked at Katrina with surprise - the only acknowledgement the older girl had given her was to look her up and down and scowl before returning to checking her makeup. Her frost-blue eyes were lined with dramatic, black makeup with green sparkles. She seemed to check it every few minutes, almost as often as she tossed and fluffed out her thick hair. Felicity had subtly looked at her clothes, but saw nothing wrong with her pink blouse, khaki skirt and white flats.

“I dunno,” Felicity finally said. “He was alone when I saw him.”

“I heard he was raised by Muggles,” Malfoy sneered. It struck Felicity at that moment how much Malfoy, with his drawl and his pointed face, reminded her of a weasel. “How much can we possibly expect from the _great_ Harry Potter.”

“About as much as we can expect from _you_ ,” said Felicity before she could stop herself. Once again, all eyes turned to her. She felt herself blushing under their intensity, but wasn’t about to back down now. “He’s got no reason to be any better or worse than you _or_ me and he doesn’t deserve to be _sneered_ at.”

“I’ll sneer at whoever I want,” said Malfoy angrily. His cheeks were tinged pink. “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that, anyway? You’re lucky to even be here, aren’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Felicity.

“You’re practically a Muggleborn,” spat Malfoy. “Your mother’s an embarrassment to our families. Just like you will be, I’d bet anything.”

Felicity’s hands curled into fists and she looked at Sebastian to see if he had anything to say. She wasn’t sure what she expected - for him to rise to her defense, she supposed. But all he did, slouched down in his seat, was peer at her with his pale-green eyes, giving her an expression that clearly said _let it go_. But she wasn’t about to let it go.

“I bet Harry Potter will turn out to be twice the wizard any of you could ever hope to be,” Felicity said, allowing her eyes to flick over each of the compartment’s occupants. “And I promise I will be.”

Standing, Felicity shoved Sebastian’s legs out of the way and left the compartment. She paused in the hall, turning to meet Sebastian’s gaze once more. “Well? Are you coming or staying?”

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he looked up at her from his seat, his expression bordering on tortured. Ever so slightly, he shook his head. Katrina, who couldn’t see Sebastian’s face, said snidely, “Of course, he’s staying. No one wanted you here, anyway, Muggle-lover.”

Blinking away tears, Felicity slammed the compartment door shut and stormed off, nearly colliding with a flock of first-year girls that had been hanging around, taking turns peering into the compartment she’d just left. She heard one giggle and say, “He’s _so_ gorgeous.” Supposing they were talking about Sebastian - Malfoy being only tolerable and Crabbe and Goyle being just short of repulsive - Felicity shoved her way past them, glancing into the passing compartments for an unoccupied one.

For awhile, Felicity paced the corridors, unable to find a compartment with enough space for her. She paused outside one, within sat Harry Potter and a red-haired boy. For a moment, she considered asking to join them, but couldn’t bring herself to bother them.

Felicity had just passed a compartment with the curtains closed and was so lost in her melancholy thoughts that she walked right into someone…two someones. It was the red-headed twins she’d seen talking to Felix.

“Sorry,” Felicity muttered. She realized there was a tear trailing down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. The action was met by two curious, brown-eyed stares.

“Everything alright?” one twin asked.

“Need us to jinx someone?” the other offered.

“I’m fine,” Felicity insisted, holding her head high and looking between the two. They were both quite tall and had violently red hair.

“First year?” the first twin guessed.

“Yeah.”

“Nervous?”

“A bit.”

“Don’t worry,” the other twin said. “First years get off easy. Watch out for the Sorting, though. It’s tricky, innit, George?”

“A real boggler, Fred.”

“Thanks,” said Felicity flatly, her stomach clenching miserably. She hadn’t even thought about there being a test. “Any tips?”

The twins grinned identically and George - or was it Fred? - said, “Can’t give anything away.”

“Yeah, don’t wanna spoil the surprise.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” The twin - Felicity still wasn’t sure which one - looked concerned at the way she was grimacing. “Do you have somewhere to sit? You can join us.”

“If you’re not squeamish.”

“Yeah, Lee’s got a giant tarantula in our compartment.”

“I’ll pass, but thank you,” said Felicity, not quite desperate enough to endure sitting so close to a great spider. The twins parted, allowing Felicity to continue down the corridor.

“Oy!” one of them called, causing Felicity to turn back. He grinned at her and said, “Make sure you’re in Gryffindor.” Then he and his brother turned and were off.

Felicity, feeling worse than ever, continued to peer into compartments. She was just about to give up and sit down in the corridor when she turned and spotted Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle heading toward her. They hadn’t spotted her yet and Felicity seized the chance to slip into the nearest compartment.

Once she had shut the door, Felicity turned to find her new compartment occupied by three people - a round-faced boy sniveling by the window, a girl with bushy hair, already dressed in her Hogwarts robes, and a boy with overlong brown hair and large, blue eyes.

“Sorry,” Felicity mumbled, “I was just… can I join you?”

“Of course,” said the blue-eyed boy, sliding over to make room for her between himself and the round-faced boy. The other seat was taken up with books, through which the bushy-haired girl was rapidly flipping. Felicity sat down, ducking her head in case Malfoy happened to peer in - she needn’t have bothered, as they never even passed their door.

“I’m Ulric,” said the blue-eyed boy. “That’s Neville and over there’s Hermione.”

“I’m Felicity.”

“Are you a first year, too?” Hermione asked eagerly. “Have you learned any spells yet? I’ve only tried a few simple ones, but-”

“Not everyone memorized the course books, Hermione,” said Ulric patiently.

Hermione opened her mouth, looking irritated, but Felicity cut her off, asking, “What spells have you learned?”

This seemed to please her, as she pulled her wand from her robes and demonstrated several small spells. Felicity drew her wand from her pocket and attempted to copy her, but none of the spells worked for her. She was just growing tired of failing at every spell when an opportunity to stop presented itself in the form of the compartment door sliding open, revealing an elderly woman.

“Anything off the trolley?” she asked.

Felicity, not realizing how hungry she was, hurried into the corridor, but found that she didn’t recognize anything on the cart. There were Chocolate Frogs, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, Pumpkin Pasties… She looked at Hermione, who looked just as confused as she was, but Ulric was quite at his leisure as he purchased an armful of sweets.

Catching Felicity’s expression, Ulric asked gently, “Muggleborn?”

“Something like that,” Felicity murmured, watching as Ulric tipped the armful of sweets onto the seat next to him. Shoving aside Hermione’s books, Felicity sat across from him and eyed the food suspiciously until Ulric, grinning, tossed a handful onto her lap - a cauldron cake, a pumpkin pastie, and a chocolate frog. “Oh, you don’t have to-”

“Don’t mention it,” said Ulric dismissively. “Go on, Neville, have some sweets. Hermione? Pasty?”

Just as Felicity was wrestling with the packaging on her pumpkin pasty, there came a series of thumps and yelling from several compartments away.

“Wh-What’s happening?” Neville sniffled, looking toward the corridor.

Hermione had already jumped up and was out the door. Felicity stood, peering into the corridor. She saw Malfoy and his cronies leaving a compartment three down from theirs. Not wanting to talk to them again, she ducked back into the compartment and took Hermione’s seat across from Neville.

“Are you alright?” she asked him. “You seem...upset.”

That was putting it mildly. Neville’s eyes were bloodshot and his face was shiny from tears that never seemed to stop coming. “I’ve… I’ve lost my toad.”

“Oh,” said Felicity blankly. She’d never met someone with a pet toad and wasn’t quite sure what to say to console him. “Have you looked-”

“I’ve looked everywhere,” he said miserably. “No one’s seen him.”

Just then, Hermione appeared in the doorway and announced, “I’ve just been to see the conductor and we’re nearly there, so you should change.”

Felicity’s stomach clenched - her trunk was back in the compartment with Sebastian and his group. There was no avoiding it; she’d have to go get it. Offering this explanation to her current company, Felicity left the compartment and trudged down the train. She was halfway there when Ulric hurried up next to her, pulling on the last of his robes.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. “You looked like you could use the company.”

“I could,” said Felicity, relieved. “Thank you.”

The knot in her stomach unclenched slightly when they reached the compartment and found it to be empty. While it was nice not to find Sebastian, Katrina, or Malfoy waiting for her, it meant that she could run into them literally anywhere else on the train.

Leaving Ulric in the hallway, Felicity shut the compartment door and quickly changed. As she was pinning on her nametag, a voice sounded through the train, “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

Felicity joined Ulric out in the corridor, which was quickly becoming crowded with students. She tried to stay close to Ulric, but people were pushing from all sides. Everything was happening so fast. They were being pushed toward the front of the train; they were passing the last compartment; the door was in sight; Felicity grabbed Ulric’s hand.

Then, together, they stepped off the train.


	7. The Sorting Hat

The platform at Hogsmeade Station was wet and slippery as the frightened first years looked nervously around.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years, over here!” a booming voice shouted over the heads of the swarming students. Felicity and Ulric fought their way past the older students and toward a giant of a man. He towered over everyone else on the platform and was several times wider than any man. His hair and beard were wild, but his face was kind.

Ulric stumbled and cursed as a tall boy tripped him. “Watch it, Ric,” he said, baring his pearly white teeth in a grin.

“Screw off,” Ulric grumbled, shoving the boy away.

“Mother says to join the first years,” he told Ulric. “We’ll be Sorted like normal.” He turned his blue-eyed gaze to Felicity. “Nervous?”

“A little,” she admitted.

“You look green.”

“I… I heard there’s a test.”

The boy snorted. “Don’t believe everything the Weasleys tell you.” Then he vanished into the crowd, several girls giggling as he breezed past.

“My brother,” said Ulric grudgingly.

“What’s your accent?” Felicity asked curiously. She’d noticed Ulric’s accent wasn’t quite like hers, but his brother’s really stood out.

“French-Canadian,” Ulric explained. “I’d be a second year, but my old school course didn’t quite line up, so I’m basically starting over.”

“At least you have a head start,” said Felicity enviously.

The giant man was speaking again, looking over the flock of first years standing before him, “C’mon, follow me. Any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years, follow me!”

He set off down the narrow path, all the first years scrambling to follow him. It was mostly quiet - tensions were high. Felicity saw Neville just ahead, sniffling, and she pulled Ulric forward so she could take Neville’s hand. It made him stop sniffling and also made Felicity feel a little better. She already had two… dare she call them friends?

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec, jus’ round the bend here,” the giant man called.

There was a collective gasp as they rounded the corner and Hogwarts castle came into view. They were standing on the edge of a great lake with mountains blossoming on the opposite side, upon which sat a magnificent castle. Its many turrets and towers stretched toward the heavens, dark and speckled with warm light from more windows than Felicity could count.

Now there came a scrambling to get into the boats that lined the shore. The giant shouted, “No more’n four to a boat!”

In the crowd, Felicity and Ulric were separated from Neville and ended up in a boat with two girls that were clinging to each other like their lives depended on it. Felicity had barely gotten her seat when the boats were lurching forward, gliding across the glassy lake all by themselves.

They sailed toward the cliff upon which the school sat; the giant shouted, “Heads down!” and they were carried through a curtain of ivy into a concealed tunnel beneath the cliff. They sailed on until they reached an underground dock and began to scramble out of their boats. Felicity laughed softly as the giant called over their heads, “Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” It was the first time she’d seen Neville smile.

The group of first years followed the giant from the dock, down a passageway illuminated only by his lantern, until they emerged right at the base of the castle. He led the way up to the enormous front doors, checked that Neville still had his toad, and then knocked three times on the oak door.

Felicity held her breath as it swung open, revealing a strict-looking, black-haired witch in emerald robes. The few students that had been brave enough to whisper fell silent under her stern gaze and she said quietly, “Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

They left Hagrid and followed the witch - Professor McGonagall, he’d called her - into an entrance hall even larger than the one in Felicity’s grandmother’s manor. The rumble of many voices drifted through the doors to their right, but Professor McGonagall led them into a small, empty chamber to the left, where she turned to them and said, “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

Felicity glanced at Ulric - he looked calm and she tried to mirror his expression. Professor McGonagall was speaking again, “The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but, before you can take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses.

“The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you’re at Hogwarts, your triumphs will each your house points, while any rule breaking with lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Her eyes drifted over the first years, all looking rather pale and frightened, before continuing, “I shall return for you when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

Then she was gone. Hermione instantly began jabbering about which spell she might need. Felicity tried to block her out and think about what spells _she_ knew. She remembered, when she was nine, going to London with her mother to audition for a prestigious school for gifted children. She’d been singing a song from _Les Miserables_ and it was the most nervous she’d ever been...until now.

What if, like her audition, she failed to pass and was sent home? She wasn’t sure she could stand the disappointment.

Felicity was just wondering if there were a spell to make everyone forget if she messed up when someone in the back of the group screamed. Whipping around, Felicity’s jaw dropped - more than a dozen transparent people had burst through the far wall, arguing amongst themselves.

“-forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-”

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?”

The two arguing ghosts, a fat little friar and a man wearing tights and a ruff around his neck, had spotted the first years. No one answered them.

“New students!” the Fat Friar beamed at them. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?” Felicity, along with a few others, nodded. “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house you know.”

Felicity was about to speak up, to ask them about the Sorting, but a sharp voice cut in- “Move along now.” Professor McGonagall was back. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to start.” As the ghosts began to glide through the opposite wall, she continued, “Now, form a line and follow me.”

Stumbling over her robes, Felicity caught hold of Ulric’s arm as they made a single-file line and marched solemnly back into the entrance hall and through the doors into the Great Hall. Felicity gawked at the spectacle she beheld.

They were in an enormous room, lines with four crowded tables laden with golden goblets and dishes and cramped with students turning for a better look at the first years. In the air above the table drifted thousands of lit candles, simply suspended in midair. Over their heads, where the ceiling should have been, was the night sky, twinkling with stars.

At Felicity’s expression, Hermione whispered, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_.”

They came to a stop at the end of the hall, facing what must have been the teacher’s table. There was a clunk as Professor McGonagall set a wooden stool in front of them and Felicity quickly looked away from the ceiling in time to see her place a ragged wizard’s hat on the stool. It looked ancient and covered in filth, the sort of thing Felicity thought she might find in the bottom of her brother’s wardrobe.

She was just wondering what on earth they were supposed to do with the hat, when a rip near the brim opened like a mouth and the hat burst into song.

_“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty  
But don’t judge on what you see,  
I’ll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all_

_There’s nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can’t see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.”_

A wave of relief washed over Felicity - they just had to wear it! But the hat wasn’t finished-

_“You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave of heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you’ve a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You’ll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don’t be afraid!  
And don’t get in a flap!  
You’re in safe hands, though I have none,  
For I’m a Thinking Cap!”_

The hall burst into applause at the conclusion of the song. It bowed to each table before becoming still and stationary, deceptively just another old hat.

“So we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Felicity heard Harry Potter’s red-headed friend whisper. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll!”

It occurred to Felicity that she, too, had gotten some ill-advice from Fred on the matter - she’d have to jinx him later, if she could just figure out which one he was!

Felicity briefly wondered what house she’d be in - she didn’t feel particularly brave, witty, or unafraid at the moment, or any of the things the Sorting Hat had mentioned, though she would’ve bet ten gold Galleons that Hermione would be in Ravenclaw. She knew her uncle expected her to be in Slytherin… but the Sorting Hat had said “you’ll meet your real friends” and, so far, she had no desire to befriend any of the Slytherins she’d met. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted Sebastian and his friends sitting at the table second from the right. He met her gaze for a moment, then looked away.

Professor McGonagall’s voice brought Felicity back to the moment as she said sharply, “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.” She read from a long roll of parchment, “Hannah Abbott!”

Felicity watched a girl with blonde pigtails stumble up to the stool, where Professor McGonagall put the hat on her head and it fell past her eyes. There was a brief pause and then the hat shouted to the hall, “HUFFLEPUFF!” The table on the right burst into enthusiastic applause as Hannah took off the hat and joined them.

“Hermione Granger!”

Hermione ran forward and eagerly shoved the hat onto her head. After a minute or two, it declared her, “GRYFFINDOR!” and she hurried off to sit at the table on the far left, where Felicity also spotted Fred and George.

Next came “Kyne Halverson!” Ulric’s brother sauntered forward, looking particularly tall compared to the first years.

“He’s getting to start third year,” Ulric whispered to Felicity.

The Sorting Hat took less than a minute before shouting, “RAVENCLAW!” and sending Kyne off to the second table from the left.

A scary thought occurred to Felicity then - what if Ulric wasn’t in the same house as she was? She gave his hand an extra squeeze as Professor McGonagall called his name and put the hat on his head. It seemed to take forever to make up its mind until, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Felicity’s nerves seemed to peak as she watched Ulric join Hermione and the twins at the Gryffindor table. As her name was called, Felicity cast one more panicked glance around the hall. Looking at the Slytherin table, where she noticed Sebastian’s girlfriend leering at her, Felicity hoped she wouldn’t be sorted into it. The thought was fleeting, however. Her entire family had been in Slytherin, after all, so how could she possibly be put anywhere else?

Her stomach was a tight knot as she approached the stool, sat down, and felt the Sorting Hat slide down over her eyes.

Staring at the dark inside of the hat, Felicity jumped a little as a small voice said in her ear, “Another Black, eh? Straight to Slytherin, am I right?”

 _No, please,_ Felicity thought.

“No? Talent, ambition… Slytherin would be the obvious fit, however… There’s a softness, yes, and a touch of courage… Yes, I think… better be GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat shouted out the final word for the hall to hear and Felicity could hardly believe it. She handed the hat to Professor McGonagall and fought the urge to skip over to her seat. Ulric clapped her on the back and George - or was it Fred? - winked at her.

Soon after, Neville was also sorted into Gryffindor. He ran off with Sorting Hat still on his head and had to scurry back to give it to the next person. Malfoy, of course, was sorted into Slytherin, sitting next to Katrina and Sebastian. They looked out at the hall with superior looks that made Felicity glad she hadn’t joined them. Still, when Sebastian looked her way, Felicity turned away before he could catch her eye.

Felicity was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost didn’t hear the whispers as “Harry Potter!” was called. She nearly had to stand up to see as people were leaning this way and that to get a good look at him. To Felicity, he looked like all the other first years - frightened and nose-deep in the Sorting Hat.

Harry sat there for over a minute, hearing the same voice she had heard herself, until the hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” and the table burst into applause around her. Felicity clapped as enthusiastically as the others and watched as Harry collapsed in the seat opposite of the ghost in the ruff. He looked up at his fellow Gryffindors and his eyes met Felicity’s for a second, sharing a look of relief that said, for both of them, _we made it._

. . .  
When, at last, the final student had been sorted and cheers from the tables died down, the hall sank into silence as an ancient-looking wizard stood from his seat in the middle of the High Table. He beamed down at all the students and held his arms open wide.

“Welcome!” he said in a cheerful voice. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

“Thank you.”

Felicity laughed as she applauded and cheered with the rest of the hall. Ulric leaned over to her and said, “I’ve heard he’s completely mad. Genius, though.” She was just about to reply when the plates before them were suddenly laden with food from nowhere. Steak, bacon, boiled and roasted potatoes, chicken, beef, and more food than Felicity had ever seen in her life. She piled her plate with a bit of everything.

“So, you’re meant to be a second year?” Felicity asked Ulric.

“Yeah. Kyne and me are from Ontario and had to get a transfer. Mom got offered a really great job in Wales, though, so she packed us up and moved us here.”

“Where did you go to school before?”

“Ilvermorny. It’s in the States.”

“Do they have houses, like Hogwarts?”

“Yeah. Kyne was in the Horned Serpent house, so no surprise he’s in Ravenclaw here. I was in Pukwudgie.”

Felicity snorted into her goblet. “What does _that_ mean?”

“All the Ilvermorny houses are based on animals, so…” Ulric shrugged. “Supposedly, Pukwudgies make good healers.”

“Interesting,” said Felicity. “Wait, so you’re Canadian. Do you speak French?”

Ulric grinned. “ _Non_. Um… _un peu_.” Felicity looked blankly at him and he translated, “A bit. I didn’t think I needed it.”

“How about your brother?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s fluent in French, Spanish, German… If you can speak it, he probably knows it.”

“Is he your only sibling?”

Ulric’s face darkened. “No. I had a brother and sister, but they’re both dead.”

Whatever Felicity had been expecting, that wasn’t it. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said casually. Too casually. “They were in a car crash. Still got Mom and Kyne, though...but he’s really hard to live with, sometimes.”

“Why?”

“He’s just too… I dunno, cavalier about the whole thing.”

“Sorry, what’s ‘cavalier’ mean?”

“Like...careless. Like it doesn’t bother him that they’re gone.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Felicity looked over Ulric’s shoulder at the Ravenclaw table. Kyne was talking animatedly to a curly-haired boy who looked about his age. “Maybe he’s really good at hiding it.”

“He doesn’t act like someone who cares,” Ulric insisted. “I think about them every day, try to be careful and logical for Mom’s sake, but he… he takes all these risks. He’s trying out for Quidditch. Do you have any idea how dangerous Quidditch is?”

Felicity bit her lip - she’d been thinking about trying out next year. “I guess so, but… aren’t we supposed to, you know, live our life to the fullest.”

“Not in my opinion, but he can do whatever he wants. I’ll take care of Mom when he breaks his neck falling off a broomstick.”

Felicity was spared the effort of continuing this conversation when Ron, Harry’s redhaired friend, exclaimed, “I know who you are! My brothers told me about you - you’re Nearly Headless Nick!”

He was talking to the ghost in tights, who was sitting next to Harry. Nick looked flustered and said, “I would _prefer_ you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-”

But he was interrupted by a boy named Seamus Finnigan asking, “Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?”

Sir Nicholas, looking annoyed, said roughly, “Like this.” Then, with a tug on his left ear, his head flopped onto his shoulder, held on by a scrap of remaining skin. Felicity didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up - both were extremely tempting.

His ill temper seeming to quell itself, Sir Nicholas popped his head back into place, coughed, and said, “So, new Gryffindors! I hope you’re going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost unbearable - he’s the Slytherin ghost.”

Felicity looked over at the Slytherin table, where a blood-covered ghost had sat himself directly between Malfoy and Sebastian, neither of whom seemed too pleased with the seating arrangements. Fighting a grin, Felicity turned back to her empty plate. Most of the other students were just finishing up. Down the table, Fred and George were talking to a black boy in hushed tones and Felicity couldn’t help thinking they were planning some sort of mischief.

Eventually, everyone had eaten their fill and the food faded from the plates, leaving them spotlessly clean, as if they hadn’t been host to piles of food just seconds earlier. But then desserts appeared –– chunks of ice cream in every flavor imaginable, pies, treacle tarts, eclairs, doughnuts, trifle, a heap of mixed berries, a dozen different flavors of Jello...it was more sweets than Felicity had ever seen in her life.

She helped herself to everything she could reach - chocolate ice cream, a handful of eclairs, a scoop of enormous strawberries, and a spoonful of every flavor of Jello - as people began to talk about their families.

“I’m half-and-half,” Seamus was saying. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mom’s a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out.”

“What about you, Neville?” Ron asked.

“Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch,” Neville said quietly, “but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me - he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned - but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced - all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here - they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad.”

“My mom thought I was a Muggle, too,” Felicity said. “I never even knew what I was until I got my letter.”

“Are you a Pureblood, then?”

“I don’t think so. Mum was, but she never got magic herself, so I’m not sure if she counts.”

“Squib,” said Hermione helpfully. “It’s the term for a non-magic child in an all-magic family.”

“Er, right. Anyway, I don’t know if my dad was magic or not - he left just before my brother was born.”

“How old’s your brother?” Ulric asked.

“He’s just turned eight.”

“So we can expect him at the Gryffindor table in three-ish years?”

“Maybe. If he’s got magic.” Felicity shrugged and helped herself to more strawberries. “What about you, Ulric? Is your family all magic?”

“Yup. Mom’s a half-blood, I think, and dad was Muggleborn. He was crazy about everything to do with magic, always learning new spells and making ones up himself. It’s pretty much what he did for a living. Mom’s a herbalist - she’d trying to get a shop in Diagon Alley. What’s your mom do?”

“She’s a bartender. I think she once mentioned my dad being a mailman.” After hearing that Ulric’s dad invented spells, her parents’ occupations seemed exceptionally dull.

“Dad loved mailmen,” Ulric replied fondly. “He liked the idea of being legally allowed to look in people’s mailboxes. He collected mailboxes.”

“Really, that’s, erm…”

Felicity was spared in her search for an adjective by the desserts vanishing from the tables and Professor Dumbledore standing once more, casting the hall into silence with a single look. “Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Felicity could’ve sworn she saw Dumbledore’s eyes single out Fred and George. “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held the second week of term. Anyone interesting in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.”

At the Ravenclaw table, Felicity saw the boy next to Kyne point out a witch with spiky gray hair at the staff table. Madam Hooch, Felicity supposed.

“And, finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

The sentence sent Felicity’s blood cold. People could _die_ at Hogwarts? Of course, people could die virtually anywhere imaginable but, for some reason, Felicity had been under the impression that magic was all fun and fantasy, never dangerous.

“And now,” Dumbledore concluded, “before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore conjured a long golden ribbon that rose high above the table and twisted itself into words. “Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go!”

Everyone sang, some obnoxiously so-

_“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees_

_Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they’re bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff_

_So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we’ve forgot  
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot”_

Felicity picked the same tune she’d once heard Markus sing it to - something to the effect of the _Beatles’_ “Love Me Do” - and was one of the later people finished. Ulric had followed her lead, his voice blending nicely with hers, and soon only the twins’ voices rung out, singing to a slow funeral march. When they finished, Dumbledore conducting their last few lines with his wand, the headmaster wiped his eyes and said, “Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

There was a great scraping of chairs as everyone began to crowd the spaces between the tables, trying not to lose their house prefects. Felicity stuck close to the Gryffindor prefect, Percy Weasley - just how many Weasleys were there? - and followed him out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. Felicity was far too sleepy and full to pay attention to where they were going. She didn’t even blink as the people in the portraits whispered and pointed as they made their way to their common room, several times passing through hidden doorways until they came to a sudden halt in the middle of a seemingly abandoned corridor.

Looking up, Felicity saw a floating bundle of walking sticks that began to throw themselves at Percy. “Peeves,” he whispered. “A poltergeist.” He raised his voice, “Peeves - show yourself!”

Felicity rather expected to see something frightening but, as it happened, Peeves was anything but scary - with a little pop, a little man appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, looking down at them with beady eyes. “Oooooh!” he cackled. “Ickle Firsties! What fun!”

He swooped at them and they all quickly ducked.

“Go away, Peeves, or the Baron’ll hear about this, I mean it!” Percy shouted.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on poor Neville’s head. Percy sighed. “You want to watch out for Peeves. The Bloody Baron’s the only one who can control him, he won’t even listen to us prefects. Here we are.”

They were at the end of a corridor where there hung a portrait of a very fat woman garbed in a pink dress. “Password?” she asked.

“Caput Draconis,” said Percy.

 _Caput Draconis,_ Felicity repeated in her head. _Caput Draconis._

At his words, the portrait had swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall, through which they all scrambled, into a cozy room full of fireplaces and squashy armchairs. Percy pointed out the dormitories - girls’ on the left - and Felicity gratefully trudge up the stairs with Hermione and the two girls from the boat, who she’d learned were named Lavender and Parvati.

After finding her trunk at the end of one of the four-poster beds, Felicity changed into her pyjamas and climbed into bed. She was just thinking that she was too excited to possibly sleep when her eyes closed and she slipped away.


	8. Double Trouble

Felicity was quick to learn that magic was not all fun and fantasy. First, you had to get to your classes on time, made difficult by the hundred and forty-two staircases of Hogwarts Castle that liked to change. On her very first day, Felicity sank knee-deep in a step halfway up a stairway on her way to the Great Hall.

“Bloody...hell…” Felicity had muttered, bracing her hands on either side of her and attempting to drag herself out, to no avail. Fortunately, the Weasley twins had just been passing and George - or was it Fred? - grabbed her under the arms and hoisted her to her feet.

“Don’t feel bad,” he’d told her, “everyone falls for it at some point.”

Felicity had said a blushing thank you and then hurried off to find Ulric, who’d left the common room five minutes before her.

Things didn’t get any easier once you’d found the classes. Felicity had been under the impression that you just waved a wand and said some funny words, but she was far from the truth. History of Magic was the most boring class, as it was taught by a ghost who, Felicity suspected, didn’t even realize he was dead. He droned on and on about Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball - “Ulric the Oddball,” Felicity had whispered jokingly to Ulric - while they scribbled down endless notes.

Felicity found refreshment in Herbology - anything to do with plants fascinated her. Even Neville seemed a little more at east in the damp greenhouse. He clammed up, however, in Transfiguration class as he was prompt to set his match on fire instead of turning it into a needle like they were supposed to be doing.

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned out to be a load of dung. Quirrell’s classroom reeked of garlic and everyone thought him a fraud - when asked about how he fought off a zombie in Africa, he turned pink and started talking about the weather. When Felicity asked George at lunch whether Quirrell was completely sane, he told her that he was trying to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania and that his turban was stuffed with garlic so that he was protected everywhere he went.

Felicity wasn’t quite sure if she believed this, but she forgot about it when Fred turned up and remembered that she still owed him a nasty hex and immersed herself in Ulric’s copy of _Curses and Counter-Curses._

Wednesday at midnight, the Gryffindors trooped up to the top of the Astronomy tower to study the night skies - Ulric wasn’t much good at it and often grumbled about it being a waste of time, especially when he had to wake up early on Thursday mornings. Charms was easily his favorite class - he was a natural and could answer any question tiny Professor Flitwick asked, although he could hardly get an answer in edgewise with Hermione’s hand shooting into the air every chance she got.

Friday morning, as Felicity and Ulric were leaving the Great Hall after breakfast, a snide voice called to them from the entrance to the dungeons, “Hey, Muggle-Lover.”

It was Katrina. She crossed over to them and blocked their path to the stairs, standing with her hands on her hips. Felicity looked around - she could hear the low rumble of voices from the Great Hall, but the Entrance Hall was deserted.

“So, James,” said Katrina. “How’s it feel, being such a disappointment to your family? Well, I suppose you can’t really help it, with all that bad blood you ended up with.”

“Do you mind?” asked Ulric irritably. “We’re trying to get to class.”

“Got yourself a boyfriend already, James?” Katrina smirked, looking Ulric up and down. “Quite the step down from Sebastian, don’t you think?”

“What are you talking about?” Felicity demanded.

Katrina scoffed. “Don’t be thick. Anyone can see you fancy my boyfriend.”

Blushing - with anger, she assured herself - Felicity said, “I do not _fancy_ him. He’s a coward and a… a…” She couldn’t think of a word strong enough, so instead she said, “I don’t care if I never speak to him again and I really don’t care about talking to you. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to class before I waste another minute listening to this rubbish.”

Felicity went to step around Katrina, who called after her, “That’s right, Muggle-Lover. Run away, just like your disgraced mother.”

Ulric smacked into Felicity, who had stopped dead. “Felicity,” he said gently, attempting to push her forward. He saw her draw her wand. “Felicity, don’t-”

But Felicity ignored him, whipping around and sending red sparks at Katrina. The third-year deflected the spell with a casual flick of her wand and retaliated, “ _Locomotor Wibbly_!”

“Move!” Ulric shouted, elbowing Felicity out of the way. Katrina’s spell hit him and he toppled to the floor, unable to stand on his own legs. Before Katrina could try another spell, Ulric had propped himself up on one arm and shouted, “ _Furnunculus_!

The spell hit Katrina in the face and she doubled over as enormous, grotesque pimples began to sprout across her cheeks. She ran her hands over her skin and let out a wail of anguish when she felt the blemishes all over her beautiful face. Covering it with her hands, she fled toward the stairs and, presumably, the Hospital Wing.

“Are you alright?” asked Felicity, helping Ulric to his feet. He leaned heavily on her, but remained upright despite his wobbling legs.

“I’ll be fine, once I look up the counter curse. Let’s get out of here before a teacher catches us. We weren’t being quiet.”

They hurried down the stairs to the dungeons, where their first Potions class was going to be. Professor Snape’s classroom was cold and empty when they entered it. Felicity helped Ulric to a seat and he dug out his curse book. Within a couple minutes, he had found the spell and fixed his legs.

“You’re amazing,” said Felicity, impressed. “How did you pull off that curse? You can’t have practiced it.”

“I dunno,” said Ulric with a shrug. “I knew the words and I knew she’d send another nasty spell your way if mine didn’t work. It was instinct, I guess.”

“Well, it was brilliant, anyway.”

The pair fell silent as the door opened and more students began to trickle in. Felicity sat straight in her seat and tried not to look at the disgusting things floating in the pickling jars that seemed to take up every shelf along the walls. Ron and Harry were at the table in front of them and it quickly became clear that Harry Potter and Professor Snape would not get along. As he was calling role, Snape paused at Harry’s name and said, “Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity.”

Professor Snape was, like McGonagall, the type of teacher you didn’t want to cross. He had greasy black hair and dark, dark eyes. Like his students - Snape was head of Slytherin house - he seemed to think himself superior to the group of Gryffindors, choosing to favor the Slytherin students they were having class with. Felicity, indeed, had sunk low in her chair when Malfoy had walked in with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him.

Now Snape began to speak in a quiet voice, “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Felicity looked at Hermione, sitting next to Harry, who was practically at the edge of her seat - most likely ready to prove she was perfectly adept at potion-making. Harry had his quill in his hand and was writing down Snape’s monologue - taking notes, which seemed to Felicity to be smart. But she saw the look on Snape’s face and couldn’t warn Harry in time to stop the next occurrence.

“Potter!” Snape barked, causing Harry to jump. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Felicity saw Harry glance at Ron. Hermione’s hand shot into the air. Ulric was muttering under his breath, “Draught of the Living Death, Draught of the Living Death.” But, as Harry did not possess supernaturally strong hearing, this didn’t help him. “I don’t know,” he said feebly.

Snape sneered. “Tut, tut - clearly, fame isn’t everything. Let’s try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Again, Harry didn’t know. Felicity glanced at Ulric, who shrugged cluelessly. “I don’t know, sir.” Malfoy and his cronies were shaking with laughter; Felicity fought the urge to curse him under her desk. Hermione had her hand as high as it would go without her actually leaving her seat.

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Snape sneered. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Felicity knew the answer to this one, but had no way to tip Harry off without catching Snape’s attention. Hermione, so desperate to prove her knowledge, stood up, her hand still raised as high as physically possible. Harry, it seemed, was at the end of his rope and said, “I don’t know. I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”

Ulric snorted. Several Gryffindors laughed. Felicity knew better - Snape’s retort wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite.” There was a pause. The classroom was dead silent. “Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

 _Because last time someone was taking notes, you humiliated him in front of the class,_ Felicity thought. Snape looked up then, his eyes catching Felicity’s. Her face went red and she ducked her head, even though he couldn’t possibly know what she was thinking...could he?

Felicity did her best to keep her head down for the rest of the lesson. Neville, working with Seamus nearby, looked ready to cry as they tried to make a solution to cure boils. Felicity was glad to have Ulric as a partner - he had steady hands and carefully weighed and measured ingredients while Felicity read the instructions and crushed snake fangs. When Snape passed by, commenting that their potion was too green, Felicity had to stomp on Ulric’s foot to keep him from snapping back at him.

“Our potion’s bloody near perfect,” he muttered darkly. Felicity patted his hand comfortingly.

Felicity, however, nearly snapped, too, when Snape stopped by Malfoy’s cauldron to praise the way he’d stewed his horned slugs. Fortunately, before she could say something she’d regret, a loud hissing erupted from the middle of the room and a cloud of acrid, green smoke began to sizzle out of what remained of Seamus’ cauldron. The contents of the destroyed cauldron were dripping off the table and seeping across the floors, burning holes in people’s shoes. Felicity wasn’t able to save hers - she had to jump onto her stool and yank them off before her feet got burned.

And poor Neville! He had been drenched in the potion and was moaning in agony as red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

“Idiot boy!” Snape snarled, clearing the potion with a flick of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Take him up to the hospital wing,” he snapped at Seamus. Then he turned on Harry and Ron. “You - Potter - why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you?”

Felicity thought the enormously unfair. How was Harry supposed to have been paying attention to Neville when he was busy making his own potion? It was Seamus’ fault, if any, for not noticing Neville’s mistake.

After lunch, Felicity walked barefoot down the front steps with Ulric, carrying what was left of her shoes. “I mean, how could he blame Harry for that? It wasn’t anyone’s fault - just an accident.”

“Snape’s the teacher,” said Ulric begrudgingly. “He can do whatever he wants.”

“It’s not right. _He’s_ not right.” Felicity shuddered a little as they reached the edge of the lake, dropping their bags and sitting down in the warm grass. “When he looked at me, at the beginning of class, I could’ve sworn he was reading my mind.”

“And just what were you thinking?” asked a cheerful voice. The Weasley twins had joined them, both of them flopping down to Felicity’s left. The one who had addressed her dropped his bag on the ground between them, a couple of his books spilling out. Felicity picked one up, flipping idly through it while noticing the name scribbled on the inside cover.

Smirking, she said, “I was thinking _Fred Weasley is so handsome. I might want to snog him._ ” Fred grinned and opened his mouth - probably to proposition her - but she quickly added, “ _Too bad he’s a thick git._ ”

“Oy! That’s not fair!” he exclaimed, glaring at George, who was laughing loudly.

Ulric cracked a grin. “Everyone knows the Weasley twins don’t play fair.”

“Point taken. Watch your back, kids.”

“You’ve just targeted yourself,” George agreed.

“We’re acquiring quite the list,” Felicity said to Ulric.

“Are you now?” George leaned forward to see her past Fred.

“Yeah. We, er, sort of attacked Katrina Selwyn this morning.”

“Duelling already,” Fred said fondly. “They learn do young. Get any good hexes in?”

“Not really,” said Felicity flatly. Cheering up, she added, “But Ulric made her face all pimply.”

“Wicked,” the twins said, identical grins lighting up their faces.

“It’s not funny,” said Ulric. “We could’ve gotten into serious trouble. Probably still will, if she tells a teacher.”

“Tells them what, exactly?” asked Fred. “That she got out magicked by a couple of first years?”

Ulric blinked. “I never thought of that. That’s brilliant.”

“We try,” said Fred gloatingly.

“And fail,” Felicity joked, earning a jab in the ribs.

Fred looked at her sternly and said, “I like you kids, but I _will_ hex you. Don’t think I won’t.”

“We took down Katrina Selwyn. Give us your best shot.”

“We?” Ulric demanded. “I did all the work!”

“I sent sparks at her.”

“That did _nothing_. Then I took a Jelly-Legs Jinx pushing your useless ass out of the way.”

“Children, let’s behave,” George intervened. “What matters is that it’s only your first week and you’re already breaking rules!”

“We’re so proud,” Fred simpered, pretending to wipe away a tear.

“Soon enough, you’ll be exploring the forest and sneaking out for moonlit strolls in the corridors.”

“And sneaking into the girls’ dormitory.” Fred winked at Ulric.

“Bet they’ve already found out what’s in the third floor corridor.”

“I bet they have, Georgie. Clever kids.”

“Oh, shut up,” Ulric groaned, rolling his eyes. “Felicity and I are not rule-breakers.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Ric,” said Fred. “Come on, George, I think we’ve done what we can here.”

“Later, kids” George said, then he and Fred got to their feet and headed back toward the castle.

When they had vanished, Felicity turned to Ulric and asked, “What _is_ on the third floor, do you reckon?”

“Who cares?” Ulric replied, stretching out on his back and closing his eyes. Felicity nodded and closed her eyes, too, but she secretly thought to herself, _I care._


	9. Sebastian

Felicity couldn’t sleep.

The sun hadn’t yet risen and Felicity kept thinking about a nice walk around the lake. Was it too early to be out in the corridors? Would she get into trouble? She got out of bed and crept to the window, peering out at the silver sky. It was nearly sunrise - what could it hurt? If anyone stopped her, she could just explain that she didn’t know it was too early to be out.

After putting on a simple, white blouse and jeans, ignoring the need for shoes, Felicity stole out of the dormitory and out into the common room. A far table was covered in bits of scrap parchment and she briefly considered doing her homework. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, she hurried back upstairs, collecting her bag, and left the common room - she’d be more motivated to work out in the fresh air.

Felicity made it all the way to the entrance hall without meeting a soul. The morning air was chilly and the grass was damp beneath her bare feet as she made her way down to the lake.She managed to find a fairly dry spot and emptied her books onto the grass, then laid out her bag to use as a seat. Tucking her legs beneath her, she popped the lid of her ink bottle, placed it by her knees, and dipped her quill in it, wondering how to best begin on her Transfiguration homework - the uses of Switching Spells.

She managed to scratch down the few things she remembered about Switching Spells, but Felicity soon set the parchment aside in favor of her potions homework. Shed completed it by the time the sun came up fully. Next, she pulled a handful of matches from her pocket and dropped them on top of one of her books. Taking out her wand, she concentrated very hard, trying to picture the wood transforming into silver, the red tip becoming pointy and shiny.

But, no matter how hard she tried, Felicity couldn’t get the match to turn into a needle.

“Need help?” a quiet voice asked just over her shoulder.

For a fleeting moment, she hoped it was one of the twins - once she turned around, however, she’d have been happy to see anyone other than who it actually was.

Sebastian sat down heavily next to her and picked up her abandoned Transfiguration homework. “You know, I don’t think ‘switch someone’s lips with a zipper’ is quite what McGonagall’s looking for.”

“Maybe if the Weasley twins were around, she would,” said Felicity, snatching the parchment away. “Besides, no one asked you.”

Sebastian sighed, brushing some of his dark hair from his face. “Look, Felicity, I’m sorry, okay?”

“For what?” she asked innocently. “For letting Malfoy talk to me like that? Or for choosing them over me? Or for basically abandoning me before we even got to school?”

“Look, Felicity-”

“Or,” Felicity continued, her voice getting rather shrill as she started stuffing her belongings into her bag, “for letting your petty girlfriend call my mother names?”

“She what? Felicity-”

“Or for spending _all summer_ pretending you wanted to be my friend?”

“Felicity!” he shouted, looking irritated. “I _do_ want to be your friend, but you’re making it bloody difficult.”

“ _I’m_ making it difficult?” she repeated.

“Yeah. If you could just keep your temper- I mean, the way you snapped at Malfoy-”

Felicity let out a strangled sort of laugh, cutting Sebastian off mid-sentence. “I cannot believe this is your idea of apologizing. If you don’t understand that your friends were in the wrong, not me, then I really don’t think there’s any point in us talking anymore.”

Jumping to her feet, Felicity began to walk back up to the castle.

“Hell, Felicity, would you just stop for a minute?” Sebastian called, hurrying after her. He caught her at the elbow and jerked her around to face him. Dropping her arm, he said, “Look, can’t we just start over?”

Felicity looked up at him, trying to read all the emotions on his sincere face. He looked so much now like he had in her kitchen, that morning when he’d brought her letter. But she remembered his other side, the way he’d looked when they met and again on the train, in front of his friends. It was like he was two different people, and Felicity wasn’t sure she could be friends with either one of them.

“I already gave you a second chance, so there’s no reason for us to keep talking.”

She turned to go, but stopped when Sebastian said, “What about the flying lesson? When you hugged me? Or that moment in the car, when Markus asked if you thought I was handsome? Holding my hand in Gringotts? Aren’t those reasons for us to… to try this again?”

Felicity hesitated, her heart thumping loudly as her thoughts raced. Did she dare trust him enough for another chance at friendship? She thought of Ulric, who had thrown himself in front of a curse for her - the twins, who had offered to jinx someone for her before they were even friends - even Neville, who had stopped her from stepping into the grip of the venomous tentacula during Herbology just a few days ago. Friends, she thought, protected you.

Before she could say this to Sebastian, however, a voice called, “Bastian! There you are!”

Felicity turned and saw Katrina heading their direction from the castle. She stopped short, her smile slipping as she saw Felicity. Frowning, she looked at Sebastian and said, “What are you doing out here with _her_?”

“Just ran into each other,” said Sebastian calmly. “We were talking about Switching Spells.”

“Yeah,” said Felicity half-heartedly. She hurried past Katrina who, to Felicity’s surprise, made no attempt to stop her.

The doors to the Great Hall were now open, the soft drone of voices reaching Felicity as she entered the castle. She spotted Neville sitting alone, prodding a spoon with his wand. Sitting opposite him and slowly picking apart a bagel, she watched him wordlessly. Finally, she cleared her throat and said gently, “Neville?”

Neville gave his spoon another prod. His hand was still a bit red, but the nurse had gotten rid of most of the evidence of the boils. “I’m trying to turn it to wood.”

“Out of matches?”

“Set them all on fire.”

“I have some extra,” said Felicity, dropping a handful onto Neville’s plate.

“What if they catch fire?”

In reply, Felicity picked up a nearby goblet of water and held it up pointedly. While Neville toiled with the matches, Felicity spread out her DADA homework and tried to remember the ways to treat a werewolf bite.

“Are you alright?” Neville asked after a few minutes, surprising Felicity.

“Sure,” answered Felicity. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem...off.”

“Off?”

“Yeah. You’re usually smiling. Even when you’re not, you look like it, I mean.”

“Er, okay. I didn’t know that.” Felicity worked her face into a smile. “Better?”

“I suppose. Do you feel better?”

Felicity considered this for a moment, then answered with a shrug. Since she didn’t really have an answer for him, she decided to put the whole matter out of her mind. Sebastian and Katrina, Uncle Markus, all of it. If Sebastian wasn’t going to make the effort, she couldn’t be his friend. It was that simple.

However, sitting in the common room that afternoon, Felicity was startled when an owl fluttered through the open window and landed in front of her. Ulric, who had fallen asleep on his Charms essay, snorted and turned his head away from the owl’s tickling wings. A snore told Felicity he was still fast asleep.

The owl hooted balefully at Felicity and held out its leg, attached to which was a small roll of parchment. Curious, Felicity took the parchment, spread it out before her, and read-

_Felicity,_

_We need to talk. It’s important. Please meet me by the kitchens tonight at midnight._

_Sebastian_

For a long moment, Felicity stared at the note. Everything about it was suspicious - why did it need to be midnight? Why so far away from her common room? And why, oh why, couldn’t he have just said whatever he wanted to say when they spoke earlier?

The more she thought about it, the angrier Felicity got. No, she wouldn’t put herself and Gryffindor’s chances of winning the House Cup at risk just so Sebastian could talk to her in some secret manner to protect his precious reputation. It wasn’t worth it. And, she reminded herself, she didn’t care what he had to say, anyway.

Right?

. . .  
At a quarter to midnight, Felicity quietly pulled a sweater over her pyjamas and crept out of the dormitory. The common room was, luckily, empty. So, steeling her nerves, she pushed open the portrait hole and climbed through. The corridors were dark and a little chilly; Felicity pulled her white sweater a little tighter around her and hurried off toward the stairs.

It was the most terrifying thing she’d done so far. Every shadow looked like Filch or Mrs. Norris, the caretaker’s cat that seemed to be able to summon Filch instantly to wherever rules were being broken. Her thoughts raced, imagining the trouble she’d be in if she were caught. Detention. Twenty points from Gryffindor, maybe even more. But, she told herself, a Gryffindor was brave and someone brave took risks.

It was just before midnight when Felicity reached the entrance to the dungeons, by which she’d heard the kitchens were accessed. It was colder than ever and she began to wish she’d worn warmer clothes. The darkness seemed to press in around her as she waited next to a stack of barrels, behind which she planned to hide if she heard anyone coming.

Felicity was just wondering what was taking Sebastian so long when she heard shuffling footsteps heading her way. Then a voice that was definitely not Sebastian’s called, “I know you’re ‘ere. Show yourself.”

It was Filch, just around the bend in the corridor.

Heart in her throat, Felicity backed away from his voice, back up the steps into the entrance hall. Here, she turned and moved as quickly as she could away from Filch’s voice without making any noise. She could hear him talking, probably to Mrs. Norris, and he seemed to be gaining on her.

 _This is it,_ Felicity thought, _I’m going to lose so many points from Gryffindor. Maybe even get expelled._ Her stomach clenched - expelled from Hogwarts after just one week. It had to be some kind of record. It felt like she’d been hit by a Jelly-Legs jinx - she could barely seem to support herself. Half-panicked, she ducked behind a suit of armor, clinging to one of the ornate tapestries hung on either side of it.

From behind her, Felicity could hear Filch’s wheezing breaths as he hurried toward her. He would be upon her any second, and then she’d be in trouble - on the train home before dawn, probably. Just as she was about to completely break down, a hand shot out from behind the tapestry, grabbing her arm in a vice-grip and dragging her behind the hanging fabric. A hand clamped over her mouth to prevent her screaming and she found herself in a narrow passage completely concealed by tapestry, nose-to-nose with one of the Weasley twins.

“Come out, you little nuisance,” muttered Filch, sounding very close now.

The twin - George, she realized, recognizing his wand - met her panicked eyes with his own calm ones, holding a finger to his lips and then whispering, “ _Knox_ ,” extinguishing his wand and casting them into total blackness. His hand found hers in the darkness and pulled her down the passageway, his steps silent as cats’ paws. Unable to see, Felicity did her best to trust his guidance, focusing only on keeping her footfalls as quiet as possible.

The passageway got lower as they neared the end - George had to hunch to keep his head from hitting the ceiling. Felicity felt like she was being strangled by the darkness and her own misery. She’d almost been caught. Gryffindor would’ve lost so many points if she’d been caught. Not only that, but Filch had clearly known someone was going to be there - Sebastian had set her up.

After a time, Felicity and George slipped out of the passage, into a hallway near the Transfiguration classroom. Only once they’d made it to the stairs and were steadily climbing did George say in a whisper, “You are absolutely mental. What were you thinking, wandering the entrance hall at night? It’s almost always got someone patrolling nearby.”

“I… I didn’t know,” said Felicity feebly.

“What were you doing down there, anyway? There’s better places to explore.”

“I was, er, supposed to meet someone.”

“Oh?” asked George curiously, eyebrows raised.

Felicity blushed. “Not like that. He’s my, er… relative, somewhat. Not blood, but… I thought I should give him a chance. And…”

They were nearing the Fat Lady’s portrait now, their steps a little less stealthy, their voices a bit less cautious.

George, his mouth twisting in a grimace, said, “And?”

“And…” Felicity shrugged, looking down at the floor. “I thought it would be cowardly not to meet him just because I was scared to get caught.”

They reached the Fat Lady, who eyed them suspiciously but said nothing, gave the password, and climbed through the portrait hole into the common room. Fred was sitting up in one of the overstuffed armchairs, snoring softly. George elbowed him awake as he said to Felicity, “You’re lucky I noticed you leave. Next time you fancy a night stroll, let us know. We’ll show you the ropes.”

Fred, who had been glaring at them, irritated at having been woken up, brightened and said, “Well, well. What have we here?”

“A rescue mission,” George said, taking a thick piece of parchment from his pocket and handing it to Fred, who stowed it away in his bag.

“Out wandering at night, Felicity?” Fred asked. “Told you so. Your heart draws you to the rule-breaking side. Join us. Join us and give in to your inner trouble-maker.”

Felicity, feeling somewhat more relaxed, rolled her eyes. “No, thanks. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

“Include us next time!” Fred called after her retreating back.

“And don’t worry about that bloke,” added George.

“We’ll hex him for you.”

“Thanks,” she replied before closing the dormitory door.

The other girls were all, of course, fast asleep. Felicity crawled quietly into bed, not even bothering with her pyjamas. She would never admit it to anyone, but she cried herself to sleep that night.


	10. Silly, Helpful Twins

_Mom-_

_Life at Hogwarts isn’t what I expected, but everything’s okay so far. I’ve made some friends and the first week wasn’t too bad, except some of the classes were disappointing. The potions teacher is extremely unfair and bullies students who aren’t in his house (Slytherin), but the other teachers seem nice enough._

_I’m getting along with my schoolwork, but I struggle with Transfiguration and History of Magic. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but I can’t transfigure anything at all! I can’t even turn a match into a needle. Do you think my magic is just weak?_

_Things with Sebastian aren’t going well. We aren’t getting along, but I don’t want Uncle Markus to be mad at me. I gave him several chances, but he just won’t I don’t think I can be friends with him. What more can I do? I just don’t know what to do about it._

_Hope you and Felix are doing well. See you at Christmas!_

_Love, Felicity_

“How does your mom feel about owl post?” Ulric asked, his hands in his pockets as he strolled easily next to Felicity.

“I haven’t asked,” answered Felicity with a shrug as they began to climb the steps to the owlery. Ulric stood in the doorway, cringing at the smell, while Felicity picked an owl and attached her letter to its leg.

When Felicity turned around, Ulric was leaning against the door, blocking her exit. “So what really happened the other night? I heard you were wandering around the kitchens.”

“From who?” asked Felicity indignantly.

“Neville.”

“Where’d _he_ hear it?”

“Blimey, Felicity, I didn’t ask for a courier list!”

“What’s a courier list?”

Ulric rolled his eyes. “It someone who transports packages or documents. But don’t change the subject.”

“It was nothing,” Felicity said, trying to pull the door open. With Ulric’s weight against it, it wouldn’t budge. “How are you this heavy?”

“Felicity,” said Ulric, leaning his temple against the door and looking meaningfully at her. “Just tell me. Aren’t we friends?”

Felicity sighed, crossed her arms, and said as fast as she could, “Sebastian asked me to meet him by the kitchens, so I did, but he’d set me up and Filch almost caught me but George Weasley saved my ass.”

Miraculously, Ulric seemed to have caught every word and his eyebrows rose so drastically that they seemed to vanish beneath his hair. “Are you mad? Sneaking out at night to meet a Slytherin in one of the farthest corners from our common room? Of course it was a trick! Think of all the points you’d have lost if you were caught! Or what if he’d jumped out of the shadows and hexed you?”

“He wouldn’t _hex_ me,” said Felicity hotly.

“No,” Ulric said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “No, he’d just set you up for detention or possibly even expulsion. He just wanted to cost Gryffindor house points. That’s all they care about, Felicity - the House Cup! You can’t be friends with a Slytherin!”

“Not all Slytherins are the same!”

“Yes, they are! You’re just blinding yourself because you think it’s what your family wants!”

Felicity glared at him. “What do you know about my family? I have to live with him in my life. When I go home to my family, I have to see him. It’s not as easy as him being a Slytherin and me being a Gryffindor. And who are you to lecture me on family, anyway?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ulric demanded.

“You’re smart - figure it out!”

Felicity shoved Ulric’s arm and, to her surprise, he stepped away from the door. He followed silently as she stormed back down the stairs and toward the grounds, where they had their first flying class in fifteen minutes.

The walk gave Felicity time to calm herself down. She knew she’d been wrong to snap at him (he’d guessed the truth so quickly!) but she didn’t know what else to do or say. But it wasn’t right of him to judge all Slytherins to be the same...even if it’ was true in Sebastian’s case.

Slowing her pace, Felicity allowed Ulric to catch up to her. When he had fallen into step beside her, Felicity said, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“I’m sorry, too,” said Ulric gently. “I just wish you’d told me what you were planning. I might’ve gone with you, for support.”

“I’ll remember that.”

The grounds were warm and bright, the sun beaming down cheerfully. A short distance from the castle, two rows of broomsticks were lain out. With a groan, Felicity realized some of the students gathered around the brooms were sporting green - they were sharing the lesson with Slytherin.

Moments after Felicity and Ulric joined the group, the flying instructor, Madam Hooch, fixed them all with her hawk-like yellow eyes and barked, “Well, what are you all waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Felicity took a broom between Ulric and Neville, who looked a little green. He managed to have enough accidents on the ground - the thought of being in the air must’ve had him scared stupid. For once, Felicity felt confident - this was something she’d had a small amount of preparation for, thanks to Sebastian. The thought made her feel a little guilty for being so willing to ignore him. But what was the truth? Had he set her up or not?

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch, “and say ‘Up!’”

“UP!” everyone shouted.

Felicity’s broom rose halfway to her hand and then dropped back to the ground. Down the line, Harry’s had jumped straight into his hand. Neville’s hadn’t moved at all and Ulric’s just rolled over lazily.

It took a few minutes for everyone to get hold of their brooms - Ulric stooped and grabbed his when Madam Hooch wasn’t looking - then Madam Hooch showed them how to mount their brooms and corrected their grips. Felicity and Ulric bit back sniggers when she told Malfoy, who liked to brag about his skill on a broom, he’d been doing it wrong for years.

Next came the difficult part. Madam Hooch looked at them all sternly and said, “Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle. Three, two-”

Before she could so much as put the whistle to her lips, Neville - already jumpy to begin with - pushed off early and began to rise rapidly.

“Come back, boy!” Madam Hooch shouted, but still Neville rose. Twelve feet, twenty feet…

Felicity was about to kick off and try to rescue him, but then Neville had slipped sideways and, with a crack and a thud, landing on the ground and didn’t move. His broomstick, caught on a breeze, began to drift toward the forest.

Madam Hooch hurried to Neville’s crumpled form and, helping him to his feet, muttered, “Broken wrist. Come on, boy - it’s alright, up you get.”

She turned sternly to the rest of the class and said, “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.”

Dropping her broomstick, Felicity hurried after them, taking Neville’s arm and helping support him. Madam Hooch looked like she would protest for a moment, but then just shook her head and kept walking.

Felicity stayed with Neville while Madam Pomfrey mended his arm like it was nothing. She tried to cheer him up, but his spirits were dangerously low. “Of course I fell off my broom,” he’d said gloomily. “I suppose they’ll be transferring me to Hufflepuff any day now.” No matter what Felicity said, he remained stubbornly melancholy. She left him at dinnertime to go down to the Great Hall.

Just as she was leaving the hospital wing, however, Felicity was slammed forcefully into the wall. She could hardly breathe, she was being held so tightly. All she could see was a curtain of blonde hair as a venomous voice whispered in her ear, “Stay away from my boyfriend or you’ll get what’s coming to you, Muggle-lover.”

Katrina stepped away from her, smirking and brandishing Felicity’s wand for a moment before throwing it as far as she could down the corridor. By the time Felicity had found it and turned around with a good jinx in mind, Katrina had disappeared.

If Felicity had done anything properly in her short time at Hogwarts, she’d most certainly made a good enemy.

. . .  
“Selwyn did _what_?”

The common room was crowded, full of loud chatter and laughter. Felicity and Ulric had claimed a table in the corner, where Felicity had just relayed her run-in with Katrina to Ulric.

“Report her,” Ulric suggested.

“I don’t have any proof,” Felicity said dejectedly, pushing her Transfiguration homework away and laying her head on the table.

“You need a teacher to catch her in the act. Could you maybe...I dunno, bait her in front of one of the professors?”

“She’s too clever for that.”

“Right you are, James,” chimed one of the Weasley twins, both of them popping up on either side of Felicity’s chair.

“What you’re dealing with,” said the other twin, “is a first-class bully.”

“Image is everything.”

“So I need to...embarrass her?” Felicity asked. “How do I do that?”

Fred and George grinned and said identically, “Leave it to us.”

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” Ulric warned.

“Ric, old pal, you’re talking to the pros,” said the one Felicity suspected was Fred. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt reasonably confident.

“He’s got a point,” Felicity agreed. “They are the masters of mischief.”

“Masters of Mischief,” George repeated, grinning.

“I like it.”

“Quite catchy.”

“What’re you going to do to her?” Felicity asked curiously, leaning closer to George. He grinned, reached into his pocket, and withdrew a small candy bag. He took her wrist in his long-fingered hand, turned it over, and placed the bag in her open palm. “So I...give her candy?”

“Genius. Why did _I_ think of that?” said Ulric sarcastically.

“No, that’s just so no one knows what it is,” Fred explained. “If anyone asks you to turn out your pockets, it just looks like candy.”

George smirked. “But it’s actually a dung bomb.”

“Right. So if that Slytherin girl-”

“Or anyone else, really.”

“-give you any trouble, you just throw it in their face-”

“And run like hell,” George concluded.

Felicity looked worriedly at the candy-wrapped disaster in her hand. “Won’t I get into trouble?”

“That’s why you run, I suppose,” Ulric said flatly.

“Oh. Right.”

“Just remember to keep a lookout for any teachers,” Fred warned.

“And make sure you get rid of any evidence,” George added.

“Throw the wrapper away.”

“Wash your hands.”

“And do try and look innocent if anyone starts asking questions.”

“Thanks,” said Felicity, still a bit worried as she put the disguised dung bomb in the pocket of her robes. “Now I really need to work on this homework for McGonagall.”

“You still haven’t done that?” Ulric asked incredulously, leaning around to look at her nearly-blank parchment. “It’s due tomorrow and we have Astronomy in an hour.”

“I know,” Felicity moaned, laying her head on her arms. “I just can’t understand any of this.”

“What, this?” Fred peered over her shoulder. “That’s easy.”

“There are three subtypes of Transfiguration,” George chimed in.”

“Human-”

“Switching-”

“And Trans-Species.”

“H-S-T.” George cocked his head, thinking, then said, “Huge Stinking Toads.”

Fred laughed. “Have to Taunt Slytherins.”

“Hate Tasting Slugs.”

“Gross,” said Felicity, grimacing.”

“Gross, but efficient.”

“Now, what are the subtypes?”

Felicity groaned, then tried, “Er, Human. Sub...no, _Trans_ -Species and, er...H, T...S? S is, uh…”

“You’re terrible at this,” Ulric hinted.

“...Switching?”

“You’ve got it,” Fred grinned.

“Brilliant,” agreed George.

“Now just copy that down-”

“Fifty more times-”

“And you’ll have it for sure!”

“Thanks,” Felicity replied sarcastically, copying down the three subtypes and adding her own abbreviation - _Silly, Helpful Twins._

“Oy! Lee!” Fred suddenly exclaimed, having spotted their friend, Lee Jordan, across the common room. Both hurried over to him, leaving Felicity and Ulric to their work.

“Silly, Helpful Twins,” Felicity muttered. “S, H, T. Switching, Human, Trans-Species.”

“Now define each of the subtypes,” Ulric said, pointing to the next question. “Astronomy’s in forty-five minutes.”

Felicity groaned and dropped her head back onto the table - it was going to be a long night.


	11. Halloween

“I can’t _believe_ him.”

Everyone jumped as Ulric slammed his books down on the table. Neville dropped his toast on the floor, George accidentally stuck Fred with his fork, and Felicity pressed a hole in her parchment with the tip of her quill.

“Er...can’t believe who?” Felicity asked as Ulric sank, sulking, into the seat opposite her.

“Kyne!” he exclaimed. “I thought I’d finally talked him out of it, but he still went to Quidditch tryouts.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Fred demanded.

“Yeah, Fred and I are on the Gryffindor team,” George pointed out.

“I don’t have a problem with Quidditch,” said Ulric hotly. “He’s just doing it because he wants to be stupid!”

Ulric turned in his seat to glare at the Ravenclaw table. Kyne was leaning across the aisle, chatting with Cedric Diggory at the Hufflepuff table, both of them talking rather animatedly. He was obviously excited and Felicity wasn’t sure Ulric was quite justified in his argument.

Tentatively, she said, “I think he just wants to have fun.”

“No, he just wants to be a daredevil because ‘you only live once.’ And he uses Landon and Charity as justification.”

Felicity, having never really heard Ulric talk about his late siblings, put her chin in her hand and asked gently, “Is it really so wrong for him to have some fun?”

Ulric sighed. “Sure. If he thinks getting his neck broken is fun, then he can go ahead and do it for all I care.”

“Relax, Ric,” said Fred.

George, of course, spoke next, “No one’s died at Quidditch in years.”

“Sure, there’s the occasional disappearance…”

“But everyone turns up eventually.”

“Thanks,” said Ulric irritably.

“So he made the team?”

“Chaser.”

“Brilliant,” George grinned.

“Now we get to flatten him when we play Ravenclaw.”

Ulric just glared darkly at his empty plate. His dark mood persisted through the week and wasn’t made any better by the arrival of a letter that landed on Felicity’s plate Wednesday morning.

_Felicity,_

_We need to talk. Meet me in the entrance hall during lunch?  
Sebastian_

“He’s mad,” Felicity said, voice riddled with disbelief. “Absolutely barking.”

“Wand me to hex him?” Ulric asked, sounding uncharacteristically eager. Felicity didn’t answer - she held out the letter where she was sure Sebastian could see it and ripped it to shreds.

Felicity avoided Sebastian for the rest of that week, spending all her free time in the common room, immersed in her homework and learning how to play Wizard Chess with Harry and Ron. She wouldn’t have called them the best of friends, but she enjoyed the occasional chat with Harry. With Neville, again, she couldn’t call them best friends, although she and Ulric dedicated much time to attempting to better his Potion-making skills - to no avail.

All of Saturday Felicity spent out on the grounds, where she learned to play Exploding Snap with Fred and George, worked on her Charms with Ulric, and spent several hours lounging in the soft grass by the lake, watching the giant squid drift lazily across the glassy surface.

With her newfound friends, talents, and turmoils - Transfiguration, to be specific - Felicity hardly noticed time slipping away. Soon enough, it was October and everyone was anticipating the Halloween feast.

“They let zombies wander the corridor,” Fred had told Felicity one evening. She’d responded by igniting his Potions essay. At least she could do _some_ spells competently.

Halloween morning, Felicity and Ulric walked into the Charms classroom in high spirits. They froze in their tracks, however, when they saw Sebastian standing by Professor Flitwick, looking particularly tall next to the tiny wizard.

“Felicity!” Sebastian called when he spotted her.

Felicity ignored him, taking a seat in the back row between Ulric and Neville, who was barely visible slumped down in his chair. To Felicity’s dismay, Sebastian wove his way through the desks and came to a stop by hers.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

“Talk to Filch,” said Felicity shortly, trying to look decisive as she dug parchment and ink from her bag.

“I could, you know.”

“You already did, didn’t you? Enough to let him know some stupid first year would be wandering around the dungeons at midnight.”

Sebastian looked taken aback. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Felicity snapped. “You know what you did. Now leave, before I call Flitwick to send you away.”

“I’m not leaving until you-”

Sebastian stopped mid-sentence as he speech turned to gibberish. His eyebrows knitted together and he tried to speak again, but all that came out was indecipherable babble. After several failed attempts to make a coherent sentence, Sebastian turned and stormed from the classroom, muttering gibberish.

Felicity, stunned, looked at Ulric for answers. He shrugged, removing his arms from beneath the desk - giving his wand a spin in the process. Neville, sitting up a little, said, “Blimey, Ulric.”

“What did I do?” Ulric asked innocently, stowing his wand as Professor Flitwick began today’s lesson - levitation. After a demonstration, he paired them up and set them to practicing. Felicity and Ulric worked quietly over their feather, but neither managed to make it do more than twitch. Hermione Granger was the only one who managed to make her feather float, although something she’d said to Ron just before seemed to have put him in a very bad mood.

Felicity’s suspicions were confirmed when, walking with Ulric behind Ron and Harry, she heard him say, “It’s no wonder no one can stand her. She’s a nightmare, honestly.”

Hermione, who had been only a short distance away and, unfortunately, out of Ron’s line of sight, burst into tears and shoved past him. Giving Ulric an apologetic look, Felicity hurried after Hermione and caught up with her in the girls’ bathroom.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean that,” Felicity began, but Hermione just slammed the bathroom door in her face. Try as she might, Felicity couldn’t talk Hermione into coming out and eventually had to leave - that, or face the wrath of Professor McGonagall for being late.

By the time dinner came around, Felicity was too frustrated with her terrible Transfiguration to spare Hermione a second thought. “How’m I ever going to pass this year if I can’t do any spells?” she asked miserably as she and Ulric made their way down to the Great Hall.

“You just need more practice,” Ulric encouraged. “And you could be worse, you know. You’re not as bad as Neville.”

This did not make Felicity feel any better. Just as they’d reached the doors, they heard a magnificent tearing sound and all of Felicity’s books suddenly fell out of a large rip in the bottom of her bag. “Damn,” she muttered, crouching down and beginning to stack up her books. “No, go on,” she said when Ulric stooped to help. “I’ll just repair this and then I’ll be in. Go, and get us a good spot.”

Obviously eager to secure a decent seat, Ulric nodded and headed through the doors into the Great Hall. Cursing her own luck, Felicity pulled out her wand and tapped the rip in her bag. “ _Reparo_.” When nothing happened, Felicity cursed again and muttered, “Where’s Hermione when you need her?”

This reminded her of exactly where Hermione was and she felt a tendril of guilt claw at her stomach. Carrying her books and useless bag in her arms, Felicity hurried off toward the bathroom where she’d last seen her woebegone classmate.

But, as she hurried down the abandoned corridor, Felicity thought her footsteps sounded unusually loud. They were too loud and she turned on the spot, finding herself nose-to-nose with Sebastian.

“Oh, no more! Please!” Felicity exclaimed, trying to storm away but finding herself held back as Sebastian grabbed her elbow. The movement jerked her arm and she dropped her books again.

“Felicity, just hear me out,” said Sebastian breathlessly.

“I _heard_ you the last time we talked, before you tried to get me expelled.”

“That’s just it - I didn’t. I have no idea who told Filch we’d be there, or who even knew. I just wanted to talk and to show you the house elves and where Hufflepuff is. Just for some fun.”

“And it just had to be after hours, where anyone might find us?” Felicity demanded, still struggling to free her elbow from Sebastian’s grasp.

Sebastian chewed his lower lip, looking thoughtful. Felicity knew he would lie even before he said, “I wanted to impress you.”

“By getting me into trouble? I was almost caught! Gryffindor would’ve lost so many points! And I know why - so no one would see us together. Ulric was right - all you Slytherins are the same.” Felicity took a step back, dragging Sebastian with her. He stumbled as he stepped on her copy of _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration_ and she took the opportunity to twist her arm free.

“Felicity, just listen-”

“No!” she shouted, her voice starting to sound slightly hysteric. “All you care about is your stupid reputation. You let it be everything about you - how you act, who you hang out with, what you’re called... or am I wrong, _Bastian_?”

“Come off it,” Sebastian said irritably, stooping down and picking up Felicity’s bag. He repaired it with a tap of his wand and Felicity snatched it away from him. “I just wanted to spend time together. Obviously picking nighttime was a misstep-”

“Stop lying to me!” Felicity shrieked, starting to step away when her eyes landed on her books, still scattered over the floor. She couldn’t leave them, casting a damper over what would have been a very dramatic exit as she stormed away.

Stooping, Felicity began to hastily gather up all her books. But, when she stood, she saw Sebastian grinning at her, her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ clutched in his hand.

Felicity reached for it, but he held it up high. “Just hear me out.”

“Give me my book!” Felicity demanded. “It’s-”

“Your favorite,” he said, changing her sentence. “You couldn’t put it down when we got back from Diagon Alley. I’ll hand it over if you’ll just listen to me.”

“No!” she said furiously, stepping on Sebastian’s foot. He dropped the book and she clumsily caught it, then tried to flee.

Sebastian was cleverer than that and, before she had taken three steps, he’d drawn his wand and barked, “ _Immobulus_!”

Felicity froze in place, her arms and legs feeling as if they’d turned to stone. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t move. She couldn’t even speak. To top it all off, her bag slipped off her shoulder and her books went spilling over the floor again.

“Ah, so there,” Sebastian said triumphantly. He slowly strolled around her, twirling his wand lazily between his long fingers. “Will you listen now?”

Unable to answer, Felicity just glared.

With a sigh, Sebastian asked, “Why would I betray family for anything? My reputation? The stupid House Cup? I would _never_. You honestly think that little of me?”

A flurry of thoughts rushed through Felicity’s head, most of them suggestions as to where he could stick that wand he was twirling. Unfortunately, she couldn’t voice any of those thoughts.

“Believe what you want,” Sebastian continued, “but don’t lump me in with the rest of the petty and the entitled Slytherins. I’ll admit I didn’t want to be seen with you by a few people, but I did not set you up. Hell, you’d think to be a little more open - I did save your life, you know. Without me, you’d have gotten flattened standing there staring while that manor crumbled around you. You _owe_ me.”

Just as Felicity was struggling for speech, their one-sided discussion was cut short as something shifted in the air around them.

Sebastian’s nose crinkled and he muttered, “What the ruddy hell-?”

Felicity smelled it, too, a stench so disgusting she doubted even the contents of one of Snape’s pickling jars could rival it. She squinted to find the source of it, but could only see down the main corridor. Sebastian’s eyes were focused down one of the side corridors that led to the dungeons.

“No way,” he breathed, starting to stumble backward. Then his eyes fell on Felicity, still frozen. “Oh, damn.”

 _What? What is it?_ Felicity thought desperately.

“Oh, counter spell, counter spell,” Sebastian muttered, tapping his wand on Felicity’s shoulder.

 _You_ forgot _the counter spell?!_

A sound had reached them now - the shuffling of enormous feet, something huge moving toward them from the dungeon corridor.

Sebastian looked torn between fight or flight. Then, cursing under his breath, he dove to the floor and snatched up Felicity’s Transfiguration book. The shuffling footsteps were getting closer. Felicity struggled to move, but her limbs were like stone. Her eyes were watering from the unbearable smell filling her nostrils.

“There,” Sebastian muttered, seizing his wand and tapping Felicity’s shoulder.

The feeling rushed painfully back into Felicity’s limbs and her legs instantly buckled. Her knees hit the floor and yet, mindlessly, she began to reach for her fallen books, sweeping them into her bag with shaking hands.

Grabbing her arm, Sebastian hissed, “Hide, you bloody idiot!” and dragged her into the shadows. They shrank back against the wall, Felicity still clutching _Fantastic Beasts_ to her chest.

Her heart pounding in her ears, Felicity looked up, now with a perfect view down the dungeons corridor. Moonlight cast everything into high relief and illuminated a huge, grotesque figure trudging toward them.

As it stepped into a beam of moonlight, Felicity’s hands went numb. Her book tumbled to the floor.

There, twenty feet in front of them, stood a troll. It was twelve feet tall, lumpy and gray, and had a tiny head and beady eyes. Eyes that were looking right at them, drawn by the sound of the dropped book that seemed to echo forever in the long corridor.

“Run!” Felicity exclaimed, grabbing Sebastian’s wrist and trying to drag him away. But, petrified by the full attention of the troll, Sebastian had frozen as though he’d been victim to one of his own immobilization spells.

Felicity’s sudden movement had fully alerted the troll to their presence and, with a bellow that rattled the windows and suits of armor lining the corridor, it charged at them.

“Move!” Felicity screamed, shoving Sebastian with all of her weight. They fell and rolled, barely escaping the blow of the troll’s club, which took a sizeable chunk out of the wall they’d been standing against.

The troll turned, its eyes locking on Sebastian, and raised the club again.

“Incendio!” Felicity cried, rolling onto her back and pointing her wand between Sebastian and the troll. There was another bellow and thundering footsteps as the troll recoiled from the jet of flames that scattered through the air.

Felicity crawled over to Sebastian, who had pulled himself into a sitting position and was staring stupidly up at the troll. Seizing what might be their only chance, Felicity slapped him across the face. He blinked, seemed to regain control of himself, and bolted to his feet, dragging Felicity with him as they put as much space between themselves and the troll as they could.

They didn’t stop running until they’d made it all the way to the seventh floor.

Out of breath and clutching a stitch in her side, Felicity wrenched her hand free from Sebastian’s and hobbled toward the Gryffindor common room. She ignored Sebastian until, the Fat Lady’s portrait in sight, he said, “Thanks. You know...for slapping some sense into me.”

Felicity opened her mouth, not entirely sure what she intended to say, but was interrupted by the portrait swinging open and Neville scrambling out of the common room. At the sight of Felicity and Sebastian sweaty, out of breath, and looking ready to swing at the first person that frightened them, Neville said timidly, “I was just going to the feast. I forgot about my Potions essay and had to finish… Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Felicity replied, holding her head high and marching toward the common room. Over her shoulder, she said stiffly, “Now I owe you _nothing_.”

Then she let the portrait swing shut behind her.


	12. Detention or Death

From the first day of November, Ulric was in a foul mood. He spent a great deal of his time studying and snapped at anyone who disturbed him. Felicity knew this was less out of a desire to do schoolwork and more due to his anger at Kyne, who had made the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. The third year was often seen with Cedric Diggory, quietly discussing Quidditch tactics.

Felicity had too much to worry about already to think much of Kyne. Transfiguration homework was piling up and she would often be working well into the night to finish it on time. Worse still was avoiding Katrina and Sebastian. They seemed to be everywhere she went, together or apart, and she carried Fred and George’s secret weapon wherever she went.

On Friday, Felicity found herself in a mood even worse than Ulric’s. The day before, she had accidentally ignited the quill she was supposed to be transfiguring and the desk had quickly caught as well, so she had been held after to help mend the desk and to receive a long, rather angry lecture from Professor McGonagall for her irresponsibility. She had subsequently been late to History of Magic, although Professor Binns didn’t seem to notice, and had to bug Ulric to borrow his notes.

Things didn’t get better as they faced a taxing double Potions.

“As if Snape wasn’t bad enough, let’s throw in some Slytherins, eh?” Felicity was saying to Ulric as they made their way down to the dungeons.

“Maybe, if you’re lucky, Sebastian and Katrina will be there, too,” said Ulric darkly.

He was in an especially bad mood as everyone around them was buzzing about tomorrow’s Quidditch match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Felicity couldn’t justify this - Ravenclaw wasn’t even playing! - and she was quite anxious to see Slytherin lose.

Potions was, as they’d expected, completely miserable. Snape swooped between the desks, criticizing everyone’s work except for Malfoy’s. The slick git was nearly unbearable to Felicity now. Just looking at him made her want to find a decent hex to use on him. She still hadn’t found one suitable to use on Fred.

By the time class was over, Felicity’s spirits were dangerously low.

Felicity left Ulric after Defense Against the Dark Arts and was halfway to the common room when she was roughly shoved from behind. She fell, her chin banging onto the stone floor, and her vision went dark for a long moment. She felt someone’s foot under her, and she was flipped onto her back.

Katrina leered down at her. She was smirking and twirling her wand idly between her fingers. “Long time, eh, James?”

“Get off,” Felicity gasped as Katrina put a foot onto her chest.

“But what would that accomplish? You first years have got to learn your place.”

Felicity couldn’t reach her wand. It was in her bag, which she’d dropped. But she could reach…

Her fingers wrapped around the dung bomb in her pocket, the wrapper crinkling under her fingers, and Felicity threw it with all her might, directly at Katrina’s face.

The stench was horrific, rivaled only by the stench of a troll. Felicity’s eyes instantly burned and Katrina stumbled backward, bits of the brown mess all over her porcelain skin. The candy wrapper had only partly come off, so half of the bomb was still wedged in. Realizing this would only keep Katrina distracted for a minute, Felicity scrambled to her feet and made a dash for it.

She ran and ran until she found herself near the Charms corridor, far from where she’d set off the bomb. As Felicity slowed to a walk, she couldn’t help grinning at the look on Katrina’s face. In fact, she was just starting to think it had been a grand little adventure when she rounded the corner and ran straight into Filch.

“Forget something?” he wheezed, smiling an unpleasant, gleeful smile.

He was holding Felicity’s bag, reeking like a dung bomb.

. . .  
At dinnertime, Felicity sadly walked past the Great Hall. The smell of delicious food wafted through the open doors, but she turned away and left the castle. The grounds were icy, the sky dumping buckets of rain down on her as she trudged toward where Filch was waiting.

To her simultaneous delight and despair, Katrina was with him. She was drenched to the skin and Felicity was well on her way. As it was still light enough to see by, Filch had no lantern but carried a large umbrella which he refused to share with them. He wheezed with delight as he led them across the grounds and up to a large, demented tree.

“What’s this rubbish?” Katrina demanded, looking indignantly at Filch.

“See that branch?” Filch huffed, pointing to a branch on the tree that was nearly snapped off. “Some bleedin’ kids thought it a nice joke to throw stones at the poor thing and now look. Your job is the bandage the branch.”

“And how exactly do we do that?” Katrina snapped.

“Like a splint, I suppose,” said Felicity, feeling a little better. All they had to do was bandage a tree? She’d be back in time for dinner after all.

“Uh uh, uh.” There was something particularly unpleasant about the joyous tone Filch had taken. “This ain’t just any tree. The Whomping Willow can be right nasty.”

As he spoke, the branches of the Whomping Willow began to sway ominously. Katrina, looking impatient as always, stepped boldly forward - this was a mistake. In an instant, one of the gnarled branches had swooped down and knocked Katrina off her feet. She flew several feet into the air and landed, hard, on her back.

Felicity gaped. Filch smiled most unpleasantly.

“Well, good luck to ya,” he commented before turning.

“Wait, aren’t you going to-”

But Filch had gone, vanishing into the gathering darkness.

“Well, this is just brilliant, isn’t it?” Katrina complained. “Having to take care of a tree that wants to take our heads off!”

“The quit your sniveling and think of a spell to help us,” Felicity snapped, “or do you only know spells to bully people.”

Katrina sneered. “Watch it, Muggle-lover. I know plenty of spells to make your life hell.”

“Just try it,” Felicity challenged. She was beginning to grow very cold now in the drizzle of rain and thought longingly of the Gryffindor common room, where her friends were probably just returning from dinner. “Think of a spell!”

“What spell cuts down a tree?!” Katrina shrieked as one of the tree’s wayward branches had a swing at her.

“Then forget spells! Just make a run for it!”

Felicity dove toward the trunk, barely dodging a particularly pointy branch, but had to quickly roll to avoid another barreling down from above. The two girls dove this way and that, but they couldn’t get any closer to the tree. How on earth were they expected to bandage it when they couldn’t even get near it?

“A spell, a spell,” Felicity muttered, tugging at her hair. What was a spell that would stop a tree? Maybe to put it to sleep or paralyze it or... “That’s it!” Felicity suddenly cried, reaching for her wand. “ _Immobulous_!”

The Whomping Willow froze, its branches suspended in the air. For a long moment, the only movement was the lightly falling rain. As the girls stood there, warily watching the tree, the rain stopped altogether and, finally, Katrina said quietly––

“I could have done that.”

Felicity was in the worst sorts when she finally returned to the Gryffindor common room. Although the rain had cleared up, she’d gotten plenty of bruises from climbing up to the branch and many splinters while wrapping the bandage around the broken branch. Katrina hadn’t been any help at all, standing below and complaining about doing servant’s work.

Ulric was at his usual seat by the far fire and, as Felicity passed the seat where Ron, Hermione, and Harry were having a hushed conversation, she overheard Harry saying something.

“––tried to get past that three–headed dog on Halloween. That’s where he was going when we saw him –– he’s after whatever it’s guarding! And I’d bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!”

Felicity froze.

“No –– he wouldn’t,” Hermione was quick to say. “I know he’s not very nice, but he wouldn’t try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe.”

Ron spoke next. “Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something. I’m with Harry. I wouldn’t put anything past Snape. But what’s he after? What’s that dog guarding?”

Felicity mentally kicked herself and hurried over to Ulric, collapsing beside him.

“Enjoy detention?” he asked sarcastically.

“Brilliant,” she replied quietly. She was trying to make sense of what she’d heard. A three–headed dog? Snape letting the troll in? Dumbledore guarding something? Just what were Harry, Ron, and Hermione involved in?

 _Stop it,_ Felicity told herself. _You’ll just get into more trouble if you start snooping, and you’ve got enough to worry about as it is! Switching Spells, Switching Spells, Switching Spells!_


	13. The Letter From No One

The morning of the first Quidditch match of the season was sunny, but cold. Felicity waiting around for Ulric to show up in the common room but, when it was nearly ten o’clock, Felicity decided he must have already gone downstairs and left to find him.

The Great Hall was loud and crowded, everyone chattering excitedly about the game. Felicity spotted the Weasley twins at the Gryffindor table and went to sit next to Fred...no, George.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously as she saw Fred shake hands with a burly Ravenclaw boy.

“Nothing,” they both said at once, their innocent voices ruined by identical smirks.

“You’re going to be in trouble,” she said simply before reaching for some toast.

“Speaking of trouble, George,” said the twin she’d just mistaken as George, “I heard a little first-year got in trouble last night.”

“Loads of trouble, I heard, Fred.”

“Who could get into such trouble?”

“I dunno, Fred. Maybe our dear friend Felicity knows?”

“Shove off,” Felicity muttered, her face growing hot as she avoided their knowing gazes.

“I’d take that as a yes, wouldn’t you, George?”

“Absolutely, Fred.”

“I said shove off!”

Fred put a hand Felicity’s shoulder and said slowly, as if talking to a small child, “Yes, and we ignored you. See how that works?”

Throwing down her uneaten toast, Felicity shot Fred a dark look and said, “One of these days, Fred Weasley. One of these days.”

“Looking forward to it, James.” He grinned cheekily, then got up and headed toward the exit, George on his heels. They had just vanished beyond the doors when a loud screech from above announced the arrival of the morning post.

Felicity wasn’t expecting much, so she was quite surprised when two owls found their way onto the table in front of her, squabbling to be the first to deliver their messages.

She took the note off the owl she recognized, one of the school owls she’d sent to her mother. The bird snatched up Felicity’s abandoned toast and took off before she could even scold it. The second owl was quick to take its place, its dirty feet on Felicity’s plate. She relieved it of its letter and watched as it soared away.

Felicity opened her mother’s letter first.

_My Dear Felicity,_

_I’m sorry for the delay in my answer, but your brother is causing a lot of trouble without you around to keep him busy. He misses you and wishes he could be at school with you. Hopefully he’ll get his turn._

_As to your first point, you’ll find several teachers with personal vendettas (bias or unfair opinions) against certain students, Snape in particular. He happens to have several reasons which you’re too young to understand, so don’t go asking questions about it._

_And as to your magic: it’s not weak, it’s just new. All students have struggles, and you’ve found yours. Just keep studying and don’t worry –– help often shows itself in unexpected places._

_My brother always hated History as well. Said it was a load of rubbish that had nothing to do with learning how to use magic. On a related note, it’s not surprising Sebastian has turned out like him –– manipulative and selfish. You become like the people you associate with, always remember that._

_Felix and I can’t wait to see you a month from now. You better have some good gifts for us!_

_Love, Mom_

Discouraged - Felicity had been hoping for some advice that was actually helpful - she put this letter aside and unrolled the next one. This, instead of containing a messy scrawl like most letters, was printed in neat, symmetrical hand that almost looked printed out instead of written. It read:

_Still struggling to turn a match into a needle? Suffer no more, because the following is a guide to proper, easy transfiguration._

_Transfiguration is all in your head._

_First, touch the match. Feel the texture of the wood, the flint at the end, and just focus on that. Then lift your fingers from the match and imagine it turning to silver. Feel the prick of the tip against your finger, the cool metal and smooth surface. Imagine the smell of metal, the way it smells like the city. Then tap it with your wand and say the incantation._

_I can almost guarantee it will work properly if you let yourself FEEL the spell. Give it a go, and you’ll see._

Felicity paused, and read the letter again. Then again. She flipped it over, but there was nothing on the back. Was this a joke? Hesitantly, Felicity withdrew from her pocket the handful of matches she’d become accustomed to carrying around, placed them on the table, and drew her wand.

She looked around quickly, but no one was paying attention to her. Then, taking a deep breath, Felicity cleared her mind and placed a finger on one of the matches; feeling the grain of the wood against her finger, imagining it going smooth and pointy at the end.

Then, with her eyes still closed, she prodded the match with the tip of her wand and muttered the incantation.

When she opened her eyes, the match was gone and, in its place, lay a perfect silver sewing needle.

Felicity stared at the needle for a long minute, then turned her eyes upon the parchment that had made it possible. “Bloody hell.”

. . .  
“And you have no idea who sent it?”

Ulric read the note for a sixth time, his large eyes scanning each word carefully. Felicity leaned against the side of the stands, glancing at the very long drop to the ground far below. “Not a clue.”

“Could it have been one of the teachers?”

“No, this has to be someone I know. Maybe one of the twins?”

“Not likely. They’d just tell you in person, wouldn’t they?” he pointed out.

Felicity frowned, trying to think of anyone else who would want to help her with her Transfiguration. Her first thought was of Sebastian, but he seemed to have given up on trying to communicate with her since she’d dungbombed his girlfriend. But who else would want to help her out? And who else was clever enough?

“Maybe it was Hermione,” Felicity suggested.

“That doesn’t seem likely. The point of class is to figure it out yourself. If she just told you how––”

“It would explain why the didn’t sign her name,” she pointed out.

“I seriously doubt Hermione wrote this.”

“Then we’re right where we started off,” Felicity sighed, tucking her hands under her arms and crossing her ankles.

Ulric was quiet for a long moment, then said, “Does it really matter? If it helps you pass Transfiguration, it doesn’t really matter who sent it.”

Her eyes traveled to the Quidditch pitch below as Felicity considered this. She knew, of course, that he was right, but not knowing where the letter had come from was driving her mad. Could she really just accept it without trying to figure out who sent it?

Finally, she begrudgingly admitted, “You’re right, I suppose. At least I finally turned my match into a needle.”

“And it only took you two months,” Ulric joked.

Felicity was spared the effort of coming up with a witty retort as, at that very moment, the two teams marched out onto the field. Felicity, along with her fellow Gryffindors, screamed their support to the team they knew would win.

And, in all the excitement of the game, Felicity managed to forget about the letter from nowhere.


	14. The Midnight Snow

Felicity didn’t receive any more letters after the first. However, she soon found she could apply what she’d learned to other types of Transfiguration. She still struggled, but suddenly she wasn’t the biggest failure in the class. Unfortunately, this meant that particular title fell to poor Neville.

But Felicity didn’t have time to worry about Neville. Christmas was coming and, just a few days earlier, she’d received a letter that darkened her holidays significantly.

_My Dearest Niece,_

_Hope your school is going marvelously. So sorry that you didn’t get into Slytherin, but that can be overlooked. I know you’re coming home for the holidays, so you can show me all the new spells you’ve learned when I come to stay with you! I’m sure Sebastian is excited to spend some time outside of school with you as well! Your grandmother wanted to come, but some plans have come up with some relatives in Bulgaria and she can’t make it. But she’ll be with us in spirit!_

This was not the full content of the letter, but it was the most interesting. Felicity only managed to read the first few paragraphs of things they’d do over the holiday before she folded the parchment and tucked it under her plate, feeling very sick.

“Feeling alright?” Neville asked from across the table.

“You look a bit peaky,” Fred added, leaning forward to get a better look at the nauseated first year.

“I’m fine. Just dreading the holidays now,” she grumbled in response, shoving the letter toward Fred, who picked it up and glanced at its contents. “My uncle is mad.”

“Can’t be as bad as some of my uncles,” Neville commented.

“Trust me, he is. And he and my mum don’t get on. They can’t be in the same room with each other for two minutes without one having a go at the other.”

“What you need is some family bonding,” Fred suggested, handing the letter back. “A lovely heart-to-heart between them and everything will be better.”

“Siblings shouldn’t fight,” George agreed. He’d been so quiet on Fred’s other side, Felicity had almost forgotten he was there.

“They’ve been fighting for about fifteen years, I doubt they’ll stop now,” Felicity said gloomily, picking at her toast. “There’s going to be no reason to enjoy Christmas.”

“What about presents?” Neville asked.

“My mom’s a barkeep. She can hardly afford to keep the house.”

“I’m sure something about this Christmas will be worthwhile,” George said then, leaning his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand as he looked at Felicity. But Felicity knew this Christmas would be little more than completely miserable.

The air in the corridors was frigid as Felicity made her way back to the common room the night before they were due to leave for Christmas Break. She’d lingered in the Great Hall for longer than usual, until Ulric and Neville had both returned to the common room, and used the extra time to work on her Transfiguration and contemplate ways of getting out of going home the next day.

Unfortunately, an eleven–year–old’s mind can only come up with so many logical plans and she was stuck somewhere between becoming suddenly too ill to travel and telling her mother a dragon had eaten the train.

Just as Felicity reached the seventh floor, her mind in a faraway place where her uncle didn’t exist, she was grabbed from behind and yanked through a tapestry. Her first instinct, of course, was that she was being violently attacked and she reactively lashed out at whoever had grabbed her.

“Oy! Stop it!” came a familiar voice in the dark. It was one of the Weasley twins. As usual, Felicity couldn’t tell which one.

“Sorry,” she replied sheepishly. “But you shouldn’t just grab people like that.”

“You’re not people. You’re Felicity,” said the twin, his tone as cheeky as ever.

“Why did you pull me in here?”

“I’ve got something to show you.”

Felicity was nervous that he meant something that would get them into trouble. “It’s almost curfew.”

“That’s the fun of it.”

Just then, the tapestry was ripped aside, momentarily blinding the two hidden within the little alcove, and then the other Weasley became visible.

“George, you git,” he said, slipping behind the tapestry with them. “You’re going to get caught without me, and you know it.”

The tapestry opened once more and Ulric squeezed into the alcove as well. With the four of them inside, they were all rather squished and uncomfortable and Felicity vaguely wondered why they were all crammed in there in the first place.

“You’re all insane,” Ulric said, his voice quiet in the freezing darkness.

“Why are we all standing in here?” Felicity wanted to know, rubbing her hands together.

“I had planned something fun to cheer you up for the holidays,” said George, “but it seems Fred is unable to keep his nose out of my business.”

“Oy, we’re twins. Your business is my business.”

Of course it was Ulric who said, “I think we should go back to the common room before we get in trouble.”

“Come off it. A little rule–breaking never hurt anyone.”

George grinned. “No one important, anyway.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Ulric insisted, now starting to sound a bit nervous.

“Go back to your Potions homework if you’re gonna get your wand in a twist about it.”

“Or come with us and live a little.”

Ulric was silent for a long minute. Felicity, starting to shiver from the cold, stepped a little closer to the twin on her right side. She wasn’t sure which it was - George, she suspected - but he noticed her shivering and put an arm around her.

“Come on, Fred, let’s have some fun, shall we?”

“Sounds brilliant, George,” the other twin replied, pulling out his wand and tapping the wall behind them three times. To the two first years’ astonishment, the stone began to grumble softly as the solid material reshaped itself into a sizeable opening just large enough for a person to walk through.

“After you,” George said, giving Felicity a nudge toward the passageway.

She shot a nervous glance at Ulric before stepping into the tunnel. It was warmer inside and she eagerly pressed forward, hearing the muffled footsteps of the twins behind her. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears as she felt her way along the dark corridor, not even thinking to illuminate her wand.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the tunnel began to slope upward and the air became chilly again. Her eyes now adjusted to the light, Felicity could see her breath coming out in wisps of fog in front of her.

“This...better be...worth it,” she heard Ulric gasping somewhere far behind her.

“Is little Ricky getting tired?” came Fred’s cheeky reply.

“Does little Ricky need to go beddy–bye?” added his cheerful twin.

“Oh, shut up!”

Felicity was having a good laugh at their childish behavior when she ran into solid wall. Looking up, she saw that the tunnel opened above, but no light shone down on them.

“What now?” she asked as George caught up and came to stand next to her. Instead of answering, he knitted his fingers together and held out his hands to give her a leg up. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“Don’t back out now,” he said with a grin.

“Can’t have come all this way for nothing, right, George?”

“Absolutely right, Fred.”

“Bleeding...” Felicity muttered, not bothering to finish her cursing before she put her hands on George’s shoulders and put her foot into his hands. In one smooth movement, he’d lifted her up and she was suddenly surrounded by scratchy branches. “What the...?”

She hoisted herself out of the tunnel and rolled out from under the bramble to find herself suddenly laying in the snow, staring up at the night sky. Seconds later, Fred was by her side and helping pull Ulric out from under the bush.

“Where are we?” Ulric asked when he was standing on his own two feet again.

Felicity scrambled to her feet, sinking nearly up to her knees in snow, and looked around. They were surrounded by hills and mountains in the distance. George straightened up then, came to Felicity’s side, and put an arm around her shoulders. “This, m’dear, is the best place in the world.”

With that, he turned her around and steered her up the hillside, miraculously managing not to stumble in all the snow. When the reached the top, Felicity gasped.

It was Hogsmeade. The little village seemed to glow, the snow glistening in the light provided by a sky full of glittering stars. The snow-capped houses made the town look like a perfect Christmas card and Felicity desperately wished she had a camera.

“What do you think?” asked George, grinning at Felicity’s speechlessness.

“It’s quite nice, isn’t it?” Fred commented, mirroring George’s grin. Ulric, unlike Felicity, was not speechless.

“This is amazing,” he said, not even seeming to care about the cold anymore. “How did you know about the tunnel?”

“That’s for us to know-”

“-and you to keep your bloody nose out of.”

Then, before Ulric could come up with an argument, Fred reached up and yanked on the branch of the tree the group had been standing beneath. Snow cascaded down, hitting the unwitting trio as Fred made a run for it.

“Oy! Get back here!” George shouted, scooping up a handful of snow and tearing after his twin. Felicity laughed, but it was cut short as she got a mouthful of snow. Ulric had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing, but the twins didn’t bother.

Felicity, not one to be outdone, snatched up a snowy branch from the ground and began to chase after Ulric. She was foiled as Fred caught her with a snowball from the left.

“Fred!” Felicity exclaimed, glaring at said twin.

“He’s not Fred, I am!” shouted George. But, somehow, Felicity knew the offending twin was, in fact, Fred. She charged toward him, wielding her branch threateningly, but George grabbed her around the middle and spun her around, causing her to drop the branch, snow flying everywhere.

“Let go!” she shouted, almost incoherent through her laughter. But George just continued to spin her until they were both so dizzy they couldn’t stay upright and ended up toppling into a snowdrift. Fred and Ulric, who had began to wage a one-on-one snowball war, didn’t even notice.

“So,” George breathed, still trying to catch his breath, “having a good Christmas yet?”

Felicity smiled and nodded. “I think I am.”

George grinned and rolled over to tickle Felicity’s side. “Don’t think, know.”

She swatted his hands away and sat up, leaning back on her hands and watching as Fred bewitched several snowballs to chase Ulric around, leaving the giddy redhead to sit back and laugh.

“Thanks, George,” Felicity said a moment later, turning her head to look at him.

He shrugged his shoulders carelessly and replied, “Can’t send you trotting off home without a smile, now, can we?”

Felicity grinned and was about to say something witty, but stopped as a prick of cold touched her nose. Little white flakes were fluttering from the sky, falling down on them in little flurries. Felicity and George watched them fall in silence, their breath little wisps of mist in front of their faces.

“It’s going to be a good Christmas,” Felicity decided. George’s eyebrows lifted as he glanced over at her. She nodded, confirming her decision to herself, and said, “I’m going to make it a good Christmas.”

“That’s the spirit,” said George, reaching over to pinch her cheek. She again swatted his hand away and flicked a handful of snow at him. This prompted him to dump a large scoop of snow on her head and, just like that, they were off again, rejoining Fred and Ulric in a furious snowball war.


	15. A Cheerful Christmas

Christmas brought the first bit of cheer to Ulric’s perpetual gloom. Kyne had signed up to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas and Ulric was positively delighted for the alone-time with his mother. During the train ride back to London, he told Felicity all the things he intended to tell his mother about - most of them seemed to be complaints about Kyne.

Felicity listened to Ulric’s excited chatter, but was filled with gloom. As much as she looked forward to seeing her mother and Felix, the prospect of spending the whole holiday with her uncle - and, worse, Sebastian - was quite bleak indeed.

All of the Weasleys were remaining at Hogwarts, so there was nothing to distract Felicity from her inner musings. Soon enough, the train was pulling in at King’s Cross Station and students were bustling to get off the train. Felicity lagged behind, taking longer than necessary to get her trunk and make her way to the nearest exit.

Esther was waiting for her at the end of the train, rather hiding behind the Platform 9¾ sign. When Felicity opened her mouth to say hello, her mother quickly said, “Hello, dear. We’ll talk in a moment, alright?” Then she took Felicity’s trunk in one hand, her little fist in the other, and began to lead her quickly from the platform.

“What about Uncle Markus?” Felicity asked, causing Esther to shush her. They were soon bursting out into the wintry air outside King’s Cross, where Felicity saw Felix standing next to a rented car. Esther threw Felicity’s trunk in the back, then hurriedly hustled the children into the backseat.

“Sissy!” Felix shouted at Felicity.

“‘Lo, Felix,” said Felicity. “Mom, what about Uncle Markus?”

Esther smiled mischievously. “He won’t be joining us this Christmas.”

Felicity’s heart lifted instantly. “Really?”

“Yes. I decided that Christmas this year should be between just the three of us. I’ve even made arrangements for an away-from-home holiday. Ever fancied a visit to Wastwater?”

In fact, Felicity had never heard of Wastwater, but she didn’t care. Anything sounded lovely compared to an entire holiday with Markus and Sebastian.

Wastwater, as it turned out, was a lake in the far north of England, in an area called Wasdale. It took five long hours to arrive there, during which Felix complained loudly about how they could’ve been there much faster if Esther had just brought some Floo Powder.

“A little drive won’t kill you, Felix,” said Esther whenever Felix came up with a new complaint.

During the times when Felix was quiet, Felicity told her mother all about Hogwarts - leaving out a few of the rule-breaking bits. Esther listened with appropriate rapture, seeming to drink in her words. It occured to Felicity that her talk might be too boastful and stopped immediately, changing the topic to how Felix and her mother had gotten on without her.

Felix had thrown exactly twenty-six temper tantrums in the past three months, broken five broomsticks attempting to fly them, and broken fifteen dishes when waving a stick at them didn’t make them levitate. Esther had spent most of her time working - she now had to bring Felix along so he wouldn’t be left home alone.

“I’ll be quite grateful,” Esther told her daughter once Felix had dozed off, “if he gets accepted to Hogwarts, too. Keeping an eye on him is almost more than I can handle.”

They arrived at the Wasdale Inn around dinnertime. Felicity helped her mother with the luggage, as Felix was still only half-awake and proving to be very little help. The inside of the building, much like the outside, was quite shabby, but had an old-timey charm about it. The whole place was decorated in flimsy garland and wilted wreaths.

Their room was on the first floor, at the end of the hall. It had one small bed, a window opposite the drawer, and a single dresser. The bathroom was in the corner, but had nothing but a toilet inside - any bathing would have to be done in the public lavatory.

“It’s not much,” said Esther, “but it’s got a lake view. And the gentleman at the desk said he could probably find us a camp bed.”

Felicity crossed to the window, wrinkling her nose at the slightly musty smell of the place, and looked out at the lake. It shone like a mirror, reflecting gorgeous, snow-capped mountains on its opposite shore. “It’s beautiful.”

“Best view from any inn in the area. It’s the only inn in the area, mind you…”

“It’s perfect,” said Felicity. And, even though it was small and a bit smelly, she meant it. “It wasn’t terribly expensive, was it?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve been saving for it since you left for school. Now, what say we get something to eat, eh?”

. . .  
The days in Wasdale seemed to move faster than the days anywhere else. Felicity spent most of her time outside, walking the many paths around Wastwater with her mother and Felix. She and her brother regularly competed to see who dared go out deepest into the frigid water. These escapades usually ended with their mother dragging them back from knee-deep water, muttering about her children’s lack of common sense.

Each evening, they ate dinner in the small dining room of the hotel, which was almost always serving fish. It snowed on the third day - a cold, wet snow that wasn’t pleasant enough to play in - so Felicity and Felix stayed inside, taking turns on the toy broom Uncle Markus had bought for Felix the day they’d been at Diagon Alley. It floated a foot off the ground and the zoomed around the room at intervals, their feet dragging on the carpet as they were much too big for the toddler-sized broom.

Too soon, it was Christmas Eve and Esther was bringing in a stack of elegantly wrapped packages she’d left in the trunk of the car - “Gifts from Markus,” she said flatly as she piled them in the empty corner of the room. “He dropped them at the house ages ago, rambling about all his Christmas plans, and I just knew I couldn’t do it, you know?”

“I know exactly,” said Felicity earnestly.

Esther smiled, kissed Felicity’s head, and went to the camp bed to tuck in Felix, who was already fast asleep.

Christmas morning dawned cold but sunny. Felicity was awoken by the steady tap tap tap of an owl’s beak on the window. Felicity got out of bed - she’d been sharing with her mother - and crossed to the window, unlatching it and allowing the owl to flutter to the floor. To her surprise, four more owls followed the first. Three she recognized as school owls, each bearing a gift and letter. Two were screech owls with similar deliveries, and the last was a large brown owl carrying a medium-sized box tied with twine.

Esther, who had been woken by the sound of the window being opened, sat up and said sleepily, “The weatherman didn’t say nothing about owl showers today.” Felix remained asleep, apparently undisturbed by the chorus of hooting owls, each eager to be the first to deliver their parcel.

Felicity quickly removed all the gifts from the birds. The owls departed at once and Felicity secured the window behind them, eager to shut out the icy air the birds’ arrival had let in.

Eager to start, Felicity sat right down on the floor and pulled the brown owl’s box onto her lap. It was weirdly balanced and had round holes cut in the top - it also seemed to be moving. There was a card attached to the twine.

_We have received your order and hope the calico arrives on Christmas Day as ordered. Thank you for your patronage. Happy Christmas from Magical Menagerie._

Remembering exactly what kind of store Magical Menagerie was, Felicity eagerly untied the twine and wrenched open the tightly sealed lid from the box. Inside, looking very ruffled from what must have been a very uncomfortable journey, was an orange-and-black kitten. It looked up at her with curious gray eyes and let out the tiniest meow.

“For me?” Felicity asked excitedly. “Really?”

“Happy Christmas, sweetheart.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” she exclaimed, throwing herself across the room and into her mother’s arms. Then, still voicing her gratitude, Felicity picked up the fluffy kitten from the box and held it close to her chest. Its over-large ears were tufted with black fur and its paws and belly were snowy white. “Is it a boy or girl?”

“Boy. Shopkeep said that was rare for a calico.”

“So you picked this one out yourself?”

“Oh, yes,” said Esther, standing up and stretching. Stifling a yawn, she continued, “I meant to get you an owl, but I spotted this little beast in the window of the Menagerie and, well, just look at him. How was I supposed to walk away from that face?”

Felicity understood perfectly. As her mother began to search for clothes, Felicity sat on the floor with the kitten nestled contentedly in her lap and reached for her other gifts. Before the holidays, she’d enlisted Neville to help her slip small gifts (little bags each with a chocolate frog, box of Bertie Bott’s, pack of Exploding Snap cards, and a bottle of self-correcting ink) into all her friend’s trunks, but she hadn’t been expecting any gifts herself.

The biggest package was from Ulric, wrapped in odd blue paper with snowmen on it. Tearing it open, Felicity discovered a glass ball the size of a basketball containing a perfect miniature replica of the solar system inside. Next, she opened a medium-sized box that was full of prank items from Fred and George, which they’d undoubtedly bought after sneaking into Hogsmeade.

The next package, clearly a book, wasn’t labeled. Ripping off the paper, Felicity read the title, _A Beginner’s Guide to Quidditch_. She turned the book upside down and shook it, but no note or card fell out. Shrugging, Felicity picked up her next gift, a small box that, surprisingly, was from Neville. Inside was a Remembrall, identical to the one his Gran had sent him at the beginning of term.

Felicity’s last present, according to the label was _To Felicity, From Sebastian_. With a sniff, Felicity tossed the package toward her open trunk without opening it.

“I’d no idea you’d gotten so popular,” Esther said with a teasing smile as Felicity stacked up her presents and set them carefully in her trunk, concealing Sebastian’s unopened one. “The cat’s from me _and_ Felix, got it?”

Felicity glanced at Felix doubtfully, knowing that the idea of buying his sister a present had probably never even occurred to him. Smiling, though, Felicity took out her last little gift bag and slipped it under Felix’s pillow. Then, retrieving a tiny box from her trunk, Felicity held out her gift to her mother.

Esther looked curiously at the box, obviously not having expected any presents. She took it and carefully removed the lid, revealing a small silver locket, just big enough for two petite photos. “Oh, Felicity, you shouldn’t have.”

“Happy Christmas,” was Felicity’s simple reply.

After scrawling thank you notes to give her friends, Felicity picked up her new book and told her mother she was taking a walk.

The Christmas morning was icy and Felicity took great care where she stepped as she made her way down to the lake. The sky was starting to cloud over - there was a chance of snow later - but Felicity didn’t mind it as she sat down on a piece of driftwood and cracked open her new Quidditch book. She was surprised to find an inscription on the inside cover, written in neat cursive.

_Hey, James, don’t believe everything my brother says about me. I’m actually a pretty nice guy. Don’t let Ulric tame you, okay? Risks are awesome, not to mention FUN. Have a nice holiday. Kyne._

As she sat there, shivering despite her layers of clothing, Felicity found that she missed Hogwarts more than she’d imagined possible. After getting used to the magic and spending endless hours with her friends outside of class, her home life seemed...dull.

Not that she didn’t love seeing her family, but an odd emptiness settled in the pit of her stomach as she thought longingly of her friends. She wondered how they were spending their holidays without her - probably having snowball fights and playing Exploding Snap. If just one week made her miss Hogwarts, how would she fare when the summer holiday started?

The next few days crawled by. Felicity read and reread her book, finished all her holiday homework, spent hours studying her mini-solar system, and helped her brother use up all of their Exploding Snap cards. She sat in the lobby of the inn and watched television several times and, two days before term was to resume, stumbled across a name she liked for her kitten - Baltimore. The kitten, who Felicity carried with her everywhere, mewed happily when Felicity told him the name, and the matter was settled. She packed and repacked her trunk several times - in addition to the gifts from her friends, she’d also received shoes, a dress, necklaces, a fancy mirror, several books, and a ring from Uncle Markus. It made her feel a little guilty for not missing him during the holiday.

Finally, the day before Felicity would board the train back to Hogwarts, Esther loaded the family and all their luggage into the rental car and began the long journey back to London, where they stayed a night at the Leaky Cauldron. This allowed Felicity time to wander around Diagon Alley and stock up on Potion ingredients, quills, and supplies for Baltimore.

When the James’ stepped onto Platform 9¾ the next morning, they found their way blocked by Markus, looking angrier than Felicity had ever seen him. Sebastian stood a short distance away, looking rather uncomfortable.

“How dare you?” Markus glowered. “I spend _weeks_ planning a fun holiday for the kids and you just take off with them without a word to me? I have never met anyone so unappreciative, uncooperative, impolite-”

“You want to talk about impolite,” said Esther coolly, “how about looking at the way you treat people once in awhile, Markus.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Markus.

“Bye, Mum,” Felicity said then, sensing a huge row about to erupt. Esther said a subdued goodbye and continued to bicker with her brother. Felicity ducked behind a family of four that was headed to the other end of the train, successfully avoiding Sebastian, and quickly sought out Ulric. She found him in a compartment near the front of the train, having just shoved his trunk into the luggage compartment above their heads. Never had Felicity thought she could be so happy to see a single person.

“Hey,” said Ulric, noticing her standing in the doorway. “Did you have a good holi-”

His question was cut off as Felicity threw herself into his arms and squeezed him in what must have been a bone-crushing hug.

“Good to see you, too,” Ulric gasped. Felicity could only laugh.


	16. Wit's End

With the start of term came a sense of panic over Felicity’s otherwise cheerful mindset. The holidays, it seemed, had renewed Sebastian’s determination to communicate with Felicity. He began to try heading her off between classes, having somehow memorized her schedule, but Felicity was nearly always accompanied by Ulric and Neville and this discouraged Sebastian from properly confronting her.

This both relieved and frustrated Felicity; was he respecting her privacy or merely ashamed to look friendly with her in front of witnesses?

Felicity’s stress factor rose ever higher as the professors began to pile loads of homework on the unwitting first years.

“But exams are ages away!” protested Felicity one evening when Ulric insisted they quiz each other on History of Magic timelines.

“Only three months!” Ulric exclaimed, somewhat frantic. “And you still can’t name the most important ingredients of a Forgetfulness Potion!”

“Snape will probably fail me anyway,” Felicity said with a shrug. “What’re you on about, anyway? The professors all love you.”

“No, they don’t.”

“You’re right. Your Astronomy’s complete rubbish.”

“Yeah, my Astronomy’s ‘rubbish’,” he snorted. “And exactly how many subjects are you failing, pray tell?”

Flushing pink, Felicity chose to bury herself behind her copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ rather than answer. After that, Felicity began to spend her study time in the library with Neville, who seemed to be avoiding the common room. Felicity expected this was because he, like her, was sick of Ulric’s (and, admittedly, Hermione’s) constant harping on about exams.

One particular afternoon, Felicity found Neville sitting alone in the corner of the library. The moment he spotted her, Neville waved her over.

“Hello,” said Neville, beaming as Felicity sat down next to him. “Thank goodness you’re here. Could you help me? I don’t understand this essay at all…”

“Potions?” Felicity assumed, leaning over to examine the piece of parchment in front of Neville.

“It’s rubbish, isn’t it?” he asked woefully.

“It’s not rubbish...but you’ve misspelled your name. Unless you haven’t told me your nickname’s Neeville.”

“Oh, bloody-” Neville furiously scratched out his name and corrected it. Tapping his wand absently on the table, he asked, “What _are_ the other ingredients in a Forgetfulness Potion?”

Felicity, biting back the urge to say _I forgot_ , which had become her standard response whenever Ulric asked, spouted off, “Lethe river water, Valerian sprigs, and mistletoe berries.”

Neville pursed his lips. “I always forget the mistletoe.”

“Most boys do,” joked Felicity.

Neville was about to respond when, quite suddenly, a tap of his wand set the corner of Neville’s Potions book on fire. Felicity shrieked as Neville tumbled out of his chair. Felicity shrieked and snatched up the nearest piece of parchment and began to beat the fire until it was snuffed out.

Madam Pince was upon them a second later, looking ready to breathe fire herself. “No magic in the library!” she snapped, snatching away Neville’s wand. He looked miserably at Felicity as they both took their seats again.

Looking down at the table, Neville moaned, “Oh, no.”

“What is it?”

“My essay. You’ve used it to put out the fire.”

Felicity frowned over Neville’s scorched parchment. “Sorry, Neville. I’ll help you rewrite it.”

Neville threw aside his quill. “It’s no use. Snape’s going to give me a month’s detention when he reads the rubbish I turn in, anyway.”

Biting her lip, Felicity pulled a piece of parchment from her bag and slid it in front of Neville. “Here, use mine. Just rewrite it so it’s in your hand.”

“No, I...I couldn’t.”

“Go on, Neville. Snape’s a bully and you can’t be expected to do decent work if you’re being terrorized all the time. It’s unfair and I want to help.”

“You’re mental,” said Neville, his tone baffled but appreciative. “Absolutely mad.”

Felicity didn’t reply, as she’d just spotted Sebastian lurking in the Restricted Section. “I’ll see you later,” she muttered, snatching up her bags and hurrying from the library - between Sebastian and Ulric’s History of Magic quizzes, she’d take the quizzes.

The corridors were particularly chilly and Felicity shivered the instant she stepped into the cold. It was mostly abandoned, as most students sought shelter from the cold in their respective common rooms. Felicity didn’t envy the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which was currently holding practice. Although, as the temperature dropped with the sun, they may have ended practice early to save the players from becoming frozen to their brooms.

So lost in thought about the upcoming match - Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff - Felicity didn’t notice someone else walking down the corridor until they had bumped right into each other. She stumbled but continued to trudge down the corridor until she heard a loud voice say, “Watch it, Mudblood.”

Felicity froze, recognizing the voice, and wheeled around. Malfoy had paused and was sneering at her. His pale face was tinted pink from the cold but his eyes were as vicious as ever.

“What did you call me, Malfoy?” Felicity demanded.

“You heard me, Mudblood.”

She wasn’t sure what to do. She had never been called a Mudblood and wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but she did know, if it was coming from Malfoy, it definitely wasn’t a compliment.

“Off to the library, Malfoy?” Felicity asked pointedly. “Can’t rely on all the teachers to favor you, can you?”

Malfoy’s already flushed cheeks darkened. “I’m helping Crabbe. He’s even worse at Transfiguration than you are.”

If it had been anybody else, Felicity would’ve let it go; it might have been an innocent joke. But there was nothing but malicious dislike in Malfoy’s expression as he awaited Felicity’s response.

Before she knew what she was doing, Felicity had drawn her wand and was holding it inches in front of Malfoy’s nose. “”Say something else,” she whispered. “Go on, Malfoy. Say something clever.”

Malfoy glared at Felicity, but didn't dare say another word with his precious face at risk. The moment stretched, longer and longer, but neither of them broke eye contact. Finally, reluctantly, Malfoy took a step back.

“You’ll get yours, Muggle-lover,” spat Malfoy, then he turned on heel and hurried away.

Felicity was livid. How _could_ someone be so unpleasant? It seemed that hatred like that shouldn’t even be fathomable at their age or, indeed, at any age. How loathsome Felicity thought she would find herself if she were to prance around like Malfoy, sneering down his ugly nose at people with an expression as if he smelled something foul.

She was so angry that she went the wrong way twice on the way back to the common room and found herself standing just outside the forbidden corridor on the third floor. There was no one around, not a single soul in sight and Felicity was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to know what lay behind the forbidden door.

What could be so dangerous, yet must be kept within the school? What could be dangerous compared to trolls loose in the corridors and a sport with a ball that attacked people and a forest on the grounds full of countless monsters?

Compelled so strongly, Felicity couldn’t seem to help herself as she reached out a pale hand to the door handle. The brass was like ice beneath her fingers. She hesitated; took a deep breath; pulled.

The door didn’t budge, but remained firmly locked in place. For a long moment, Felicity tried to remember a spell to unlock things. Hermione had mentioned it once - Altomora? Alocamorta? Alo…? But, try as she might, Felicity couldn’t remember the spell.

Once more, Felicity looked around for any teachers or prefects; when she knew she was completely alone, she stepped closer to the door and lay her head against the wood. At first, she heard nothing. Then an odd sound met her ear; something was rustling inside. It sounded like a bag of flour being dragged across a stone floor. Then there was a muffled sound of air being expelled from somewhere; it was like something enormous had let out a tired snort. But what could make a sound like that?

Images of great beasts popped into Felicity’s head and she recoiled from the door as though it might rocket off its hinges at any moment. Then her heart sank horribly as she remembered hearing something; a hushed conversation between Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“–– _tried to get past that three–headed dog on Halloween._ ”

Felicity took a moment to wipe her sweaty palms on the inside of her robes. Could there really be such a thing as a three-headed dog? Could that really be what was inside the forbidden corridor? They had said it was guarding something, but what would be so important, and who would want to steal it?

Snape, she recalled. They’d mentioned Snape. Of course, she disliked Snape and wouldn’t put it past him to do cruel and unjust things...but to steal from Dumbledore? Felicity couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it.

 _This is nonsense,_ she told herself. _What does it matter if there’s a dog or if it’s guarding something? You’ve got enough to deal with already without sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong._ And, with that, she turned and strode back down the corridor, toward the stairs. She didn’t let herself think of anything but her Potions essay until she was in the common room.

Ulric was nowhere in sight, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all gathered around one table, heads bent over an enormous, dusty old book. They were whispering excitedly about something and Felicity felt another surge of curiosity. Just what had they found out now? Had they discovered what the dog was guarding; perhaps found proof that Snape was trying to steal it?

Deciding she couldn’t trust herself not to eavesdrop, Felicity hurried upstairs to the girl’s dormitory and climbed into bed with her copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Quidditch .However, every time she put the book down and tried to go to sleep, she found that her eyes simply wouldn’t stay closed. She listened to the other girls coming to bed; first Lavender, then Parvati, and finally Hermione. Felicity listened carefully and distinctly heard the muffled thump of something be dropped into a trunk - was it the book they’d been reading from?

The minutes dragged by, but still Felicity couldn’t sleep. The book in Hermione’s trunk seemed to be whispering to her, attempting to lure her from the safety of her bed. Could one little peek really hurt?

 _No,_ Felicity told herself. _It’s none of your business, and you don’t need to be caught going through Hermione’s trunk. Just let it go._ But, no matter how many times she tried to tell herself to forget about it, Felicity found no sleep that night.


	17. Nighttime Nightmare

“I still don’t understand why larger animals are so much more difficult,” Felicity groaned one afternoon, throwing her wand down in frustration. It clinked softly against the smooth, round stone she had been attempting to Transfigure into a bird.

“It might not be that,” said Ulric, gingerly stroking the yellow canary perched on his finger, looking pleased. “It could be the switch, going from changing animals into things to changing things into animals.”

“It’s rubbish,” Felicity complained. “ _I’m_ rubbish.”

“Everyone has a weakness,” Ulric pointed out.

“He’s right,” said Neville, leaning back in his seat to look at Felicity. “Except me, I’m rubbish at everything.”

“Not at Herbology,” said Ulric, frowning. “I’ll never understand how you all manage to keep your plants alive.”

Felicity smiled, feeling a bit better. “I see your point. I’m bad with Transfiguration, you’re terrible with plants.”

“I’m not terrible!” Ulric exclaimed. His cheeks went red as several students turned in their seats to see what was going on. Up front, McGonagall shot him a warning look. Ducking his head and picking up his quill, Ulric said more quietly, “I’m just not sure why it’s necessary. It’s not _actually_ magic, is it?”

“Yes, it is,” said Neville. “Our plants have magical qualities or are used in magical potions and remedies.”

Felicity groaned softly. “Neville, you sound just like him when you talk like that.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Ulric shrugged.

. . .  
That night, Felicity couldn’t sleep. She had spent the entire afternoon in the library with Ulric, trying to get the hang of object-animal Transfiguration, and had made no progress at all. Finally, frustrated with Ulric’s unhelpful tips (“Just concentrate! It’s not that hard.”), Felicity had left the library in a huff, snapping angrily at Sebastian to leave her alone when she saw him lurking between the shelves nearby.

After sulking in bed for an hour or so, Felicity decided to try and study a bit more, since she wasn’t tired enough to sleep. However, try as she might, she just couldn’t seem to stay focused. Time crawled by as she struggled through the dense reading material. Eventually, Lavender came to bed. A short time later, Parvati came up to the dormitory as well.

Just before midnight, Felicity made a noise of disgust and flipped the book closed. She was going to completely fail her final exams, she just knew it. She could imagine herself next year, still struggling to do simple spells while her friends learned more advanced and interesting ones.

Unable to shake one depressing image after another, Felicity climbed abruptly from her bed, thinking she’d have a glass of water from the pitcher by the window. She was halfway across the room when a book on Hermione’s side table caught her eye. It was the same large volume she, Harry, and Ron had been excitedly whispering over the other night. Hermione wasn’t in bed - she must’ve been down in the common room, still studying.

Cautiously, Felicity crept over to Hermione’s bed. The book was heavy and thick - it would be impossible to find exactly what page and passage they had been reading. Still, Felicity picked it up and flipped through the pages. A glimpse of color between two pages gave her pause and she opened the book wider, revealing a chocolate frog card that was apparently being used as a bookmark. Felicity took the card, examining the tiny photograph of Professor Dumbledore on the front, then turned it to read the passage on the back.

_Albus Dumbledore  
Current Headmaster of Hogwarts_

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling._

Felicity laughed softly at the last part, then turned her eyes back to the page that had been marked with the card. The topic was alchemy, which immediately caught her interest. She sought and quickly found the name from the card, Nicolas Flamel. Two paragraphs in particular told her what she needed to know-

_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer’s Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the Sorcerer’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year-_

Felicity blinked, shook her head, and reread the sentence to be sure she’d understood it correctly.

_-enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

So this was what Harry and his friends thought was being guarded by a three-headed dog on the third floor, what they thought Snape was trying to steal. If it _was_ this Sorcerer’s Stone, Felicity really couldn’t blame him - if _she_ had a stone that could turn any metal into gold, her mother would never have to work another day and her family would be set for life - a very long life, if the part about immortality was true.

Snape trying to steal from Dumbledore was a disturbing thought but, Felicity reminded herself, Professor Dumbledore was credited as the greatest wizard of this age - what chance did Snape actually have to get this stone? And, honestly, what did it matter if he did? He’d live forever and be rich - but Felicity wouldn’t have to see him after she left Hogwarts and being rich might make him less sour and unbearable.

“If only,” Felicity quietly sighed, closing the book and replacing it on Hermione’s side table. Glancing at the empty bed, Felicity realized that she hadn’t thought to ask Hermione’s advice about her Transfiguration. She had better marks than Ulric - maybe she’d have better advice. And, if she started to go into one of her mind-numbingly dull rants, Felicity could feign exhaustion and escape to bed.

Slipping on her robe, Felicity stole from the dormitory and onto the landing at the top of the stairs. The common room was quiet. Felicity started down the stairs, but froze when she heard the distinct sound of the portrait hole being opened.

Seconds later, she heard Ron saying loudly, “It bit me! I’m not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon’s the most horrible animal I’ve ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you’d think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me, he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby.”

Felicity bit back a laugh - the image of Hagrid singing to a baby dragon was both precious and hilarious. But why did he have a baby dragon? It seemed dangerous and, clearly, it wasn’t something Harry and his friends wanted anyone to know about, since a moment later she heard Harry reading a letter aloud-

_“Dear Ron, how are you? Thanks for the letter - I’d be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won’t be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn’t be seen carrying an illegal dragon._

_“Could you get the Ridgeback up to the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it’s still dark. Send me an answer as soon as possible. Love, Charlie._

_“We’ve got the invisibility cloak. It shouldn’t be too difficult - I think the cloak’s big enough to cover two of us and Norbert.”_

Feeling she’d receive a rather awkward greeting if she made herself known now, Felicity crept back into the girls’ dormitory and got into bed, her mind racing. So Hagrid had somehow got his hands on an illegal dragon. A Norwegian Ridgeback, of all things, which she recalled from _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ was one of the most vicious breeds of dragon.

And Harry and Ron were going to try and wrestle this beast up to the top of the Astronomy tower in the middle of the night. Even if it was a baby, a dragon couldn’t be easy to handle. Felicity desperately wanted to help, but knew they’d be mad if they discovered she’d been eavesdropping.

Not to mention the invisibility cloak Harry had mentioned. Where on earth had he gotten such a useful thing as an invisibility cloak? She could think of so many things a cloak like that could be used for - even Fred and George, with their extensive knowledge of the castle, would envy Harry if they knew.

And it would make avoiding Sebastian _so_ much simpler, Felicity thought longingly, picking Baltimore up from her pillow so that she could lay down. The kitten let out a mew of protest, but quickly settled into Felicity’s arms and was back asleep in seconds.

. . .  
Later that week, a school owl arrived next to Felicity’s breakfast plate, bearing a letter. Ulric, who had been writing up study charts next to her, glared at the owl before returning to his notes. Curiously, Felicity took the letter from the owl and offered it a bit of toast, which it greedily snapped up before soaring away.

The note was in the same neat hand as the previous, the message ringing with the same self-help tone.

_Finally got the hang of turning things into other things? Frustrated because they threw something even more difficult at you? Never fear – another guide is here._

_As said previously, Transfiguration is all in your head. If you’re stuck thinking about creating life and all that, you’ll never succeed in turning anything into an animal._

_The first step is to clear your mind, not to worry about the next steps. Just study your object. Now picture it coming to life – a heartbeat, breathing, maybe making a little noise. Picture it stretching (or shrinking) and taking on the qualities of the animal you’re meant to turn it into. Then cast your spell._

_This one may take a bit of practice, but follow this method and you’ll be turning buttons into beetles before you know it._

“These letters read like something out of a witch’s guide to a cleaner house,” commented Ulric, leaning over to read the letter.

“It’s more helpful than you,” Felicity muttered.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing.” Rolling her eyes, Felicity tucked the parchment into her pocket, since she didn’t have anything to practice on and thought conjuring birds or beetles in the middle of breakfast was most likely against the rules.

Since it was Saturday, Felicity spent the afternoon outside by the lake, working on one of her many essays. The weather was finally starting to warm up a bit – spring was just around the corner. Ulric, she knew, was spending his day in the library, helping Neville with some Charms homework. Which would most likely lead to helping with all his other homework, as well, since Ulric seemed to have taken Neville under his wing and was determined he would pass all his classes with acceptable grades.

Felicity’s work kept her busy until sunset, when she gathered her things and hurried up to the common room. She was starting to feel like this was her life – class, homework, sleep, repeat. More and more, she found herself longing for the beginning of the year, when homework had been light and classes simple.

“Felicity!”

Just outside the common room, Felicity paused and turned to see Neville hurrying up the corridor, out of breath.

“Alright, Neville?” she asked him.

“No,” Neville moaned. “Have you seen Harry or Hermione?”

“Not recently,” Felicity told him. “Not since breakfast.”

“Oh, no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Malfoy,” said Neville quickly. “I was just in the library and overheard him talking about them, how they’re going to be out tonight, wandering the corridors with a dragon, and he was going to get them caught and expelled.”

Felicity’s eyes widened. “When was this?”

“More than an hour ago – I’ve been looking all over for them.”

“Maybe they’re in the common room,” suggested Felicity. She was wrestling with whether or not to tell Neville that Malfoy was right – about Harry and Hermione having a dragon, at least. How did Malfoy know, anyway? And how much did he know? Did he know where they were taking the dragon and why?

The common room was crammed full of students, loudly chatting and laughing. It took several minutes of searching to determine that Harry and Hermione were not among the other students – they must’ve already slipped out.

“Maybe they won’t get caught,” Felicity suggested.

“But what if they do? We can’t just sit around and wait, knowing we could warn them,” said Neville. “I’m going back out.”

“Wait!” Felicity exclaimed, following as Neville scrambled out of the portrait hole. “What if you get caught?”

But Neville, already several steps ahead, didn’t hear her. It was already growing dark in the corridors and Felicity was terrified that every turn of a corner would land them face-to-face with one of the professors.

 _Don’t be such a wimp,_ she told herself. _Are you a Gryffindor or not?_

For a long time, they prowled the corridors, hiding in what shadowed places they could. Every breath of wind was Mrs. Norris’ tail brushing the walls, every flicker of light a professor bearing down on them. A lump of anxiety was nearly choking Felicity as they approached the stairs that led to the Astronomy tower.

“You don’t suppose-”

Felicity shushed Neville, cutting off whatever he’d been about to ask, as she heard footsteps. Half-panicked, she grabbed Neville and the two of them shrank into a corner, just out of reach of the light of Filch’s lantern as he appeared on the stairs, leading two students.

Harry and Hermione looked miserable, but they appeared to have managed to send off the dragon before they were caught.

It was a long time before Felicity or Neville could speak, let alone move. Their risk had been for nothing. Less than nothing, if they didn’t make it back to the common room. So, barely daring to breathe, they set off down the stairs and back toward Gryffindor tower. The hourglass that recorded House points was going to be lower in the morning. How many pointed would Harry and Hermione have lost? Would they even still be in school tomorrow?

“Nearly there,” Felicity whispered as they reached the base of the tower.

“This is a nightmare,” groaned Neville. “D’you think we’ve lost the House Cup?”

Felicity was about to answer when a flurry of footsteps sounded ahead of them – someone was rushing toward them. She grabbed Neville’s arm and they scrambled away from the approaching steps. Unfortunately, Neville slipped on his trailing robes and fell, nearly taking Felicity with him.

To keep from falling, Felicity clutched at a hanging tapestry, nearly tearing it from the wall. To her great surprise, she found herself drawn into the darkness behind the tapestry, a body crushing her against the wall of a hidden alcove and a hand pressed over her mouth. Before she could react, Felicity heard a loud voice out in the corridor exclaim, “Mr. Longbottom!”

It was Professor McGonagall. Felicity turned furious eyes onto her savior. Sebastian, staring at her with a pleading expression.

“Please, Professor, I was just-”

“Four students in one night, I wouldn’t have believed it! Save your excuses and come with me. Now, Mr. Longbottom.”

Neville fell silent and, together, his and Professor McGonagall’s footsteps retreated down the hall and around the bend. As soon as they were gone, Felicity forced her hands between Sebastian and herself and shoved him. His back hit the opposite wall with a muffled _thud_ and he grimaced. “You alright?”

“Alright?” Felicity hissed. “Why didn’t you help Neville?”

“You’re welcome,” said Sebastian, his expression darkening. “You’re bloody lucky I was able to save _you_ , James. There wasn’t time-”

“Why are you even here?” snapped Felicity. “Following me still?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was out and happened to hear you and Longbottom bumbling about and thought I might make sure you didn’t get yourselves kicked out.”

“Well, you failed, didn’t you? Now Neville’s got detention, if he’s not expelled!”

“I don’t _care_ about Neville,” Sebastian growled.

“Is that why you’re doing this? Constantly following me, trying to get me alone, never giving me a moment to myself – because you want me to think you _care_ about me?”

“Felicity, of course I care about you,” said Sebastian a bit more gently. “Before term, I thought we were going to be great friends here. I enjoyed your company. We shared secrets.”

“And then you turned into a complete ass,” Felicity retorted. “If you ever cared about me, you wouldn’t hide our relationship from your friends out of embarrassment or whatever your reasons. You wouldn’t let your girlfriend speak to me like garbage. And you certainly wouldn’t treat my friends’ getting into trouble with such indifference!”

“Felicity, shh,” Sebastian said hurriedly, glancing at the tapestry. “How am I supposed to get you to understand if you never listen?”

“Because your words don’t mean anything! Especially if your actions _never_ match them. So, until you’re ready to give up your entitled behavior, please stop trying to talk me into ignoring it.”

With that, Felicity slipped out from behind the tapestry and set off down the corridor at a run. The Fat Lady’s portrait was in view within a minute and awake – Felicity wondered if Professor McGonagall had been questioning her about the flux of Gryffindors out of bed – Felicity irritably gave her the password and climbed through the portrait hole.

Guilt gnawed at her as she climbed into bed, noting the empty bed across the dormitory where Hermione should have been. She’d abandoned Neville, left him to be punished without her. What would she ever do to make this up to him? Would he ever forgive her? Sebastian hadn’t saved her – he’d put her into a horribly awkward position with one of her friends.

With the anger, anxiety, and guilt tumbling around in her head, Felicity found no rest that night.


	18. Amends

The only good thing to come of Felicity’s nighttime disaster was that Sebastian was finally leaving her alone. It proved, once and for all, that he didn’t care enough about Felicity to openly accept her and that was all she needed to know.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville were pariahs. The general outrage at their having lost a total of one-hundred-and-fifty House points was universal. Even the other Houses shunned them – excluding Slytherins, of course, who openly congratulated Harry when they passed him in the hall.

“Thanks for giving us the House Cup, Potter!”

Felicity, ashamed of herself, spent all her time outside classes quietly studying and avoiding everyone. Logically, if she spent every moment studying, she couldn’t cause trouble or hurt any more of her friends. She avoided them all, arriving late to classes so she couldn’t sit with them, skipping meals to avoid the Great Hall, and often picking unusual locations to study, such as the owlery, the bathroom, or various nooks and crannies in distant corridors.

It was in one of these hidden alcoves that Felicity was dutifully writing out the ingredients for a potion to cure boils, when the tapestry was suddenly drawn back and Ulric squeezed into the small space with her.

“Ulric!” Felicity gasped. “What are you doing in here? How’d you even find me?”

“It’s bloody cramped in here,” was his reply. He slid to the floor, stretching his legs out as much as he could and giving Felicity a flat stare. “Where’ve you been?”

“Keeping busy.”

It wasn’t _exactly_ a lie.

Ulric sighed. “I talked to Neville.”

“How is he?” Felicity asked, unable to stop herself.

“Miserable. Practically no one will talk to him. But I thought he might know why you’re acting so strange, since you starting doing this right after they lost those House points.”

Felicity stared intently down at her homework, refusing to meet Ulric’s gaze. “He was just trying to warn them.”

“I know.”

“You _do_?” she asked incredulously finally looking up.

While he wasn’t exactly happy, Ulric didn’t look angry or upset. Rolling his eyes, he replied, “Yes, I do. And I know you were there, too. What I don’t know is how you got off without punishment.”

“Sebastian,” Felicity huffed. “When McGonagall was around the corner, he pulled me out of sight and she didn’t see me.”

Ulric’s eyebrows shot up. “Awfully nice of him.”

“He was just trying to make me forgive him. Uncle Markus must be pressuring him to make nice, but I just can’t have him always acting one way around me and a completely different way around everyone else.”

“Yeah,” Ulric agreed. “Besides, he’s a Slytherin. All they care about is looking important and winning the House Cup.”

“And the Quidditch Cup,” Felicity added. She ignored the way Ulric’s eyes momentarily darkened, as they always did when Quidditch was mentioned. “So…you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m a little disappointed – that would’ve been _two-hundred_ points if you’d gotten caught! – but, no, I’m not mad. Like you and Neville said, you were just trying to stop Harry and Hermione from getting in trouble.”

“Did…did he tell you why they were sneaking around at night?”

“Not exactly.”

Felicity sighed and filled Ulric in on everything she had learned, holding nothing back. His expression went from stunned, to irritated, and landed finally on thoughtful. Rubbing his chin, Ulric said slowly, “So…a three-headed dog is guard a Sorcerer’s Stone in the third floor corridor and Snape is trying to steal it for himself. Hagrid got his hands on an illegal dragon and, instead of telling Dumbledore, Harry and Hermione helped Hagrid send it away and got caught in the process, despite having a cloak that can make them invisible?”

“You’ve got it,” Felicity confirmed.

Ulric was quiet for a long minute, then burst out, “Bloody hell, Felicity, I thought we were friends! Why would you keep so much from me?”

“Well…well…” Felicity struggled for an explanation, caught off-guard by the intensity of Ulric’s outburst. “I mean, you’ve been so focused on exams and I- I didn’t want to distract you. And, well, I didn’t exactly have any proof of all this, did I? So there really wasn’t much point and…I’m sorry, Ulric. I’ve been a terrible friend.”

“It’s alright,” said Ulric. “I suppose I _have_ been a little uptight about exams. I might’ve noticed how distracted you’ve been if I’d just paid a little more attention.”

Felicity sighed, relieved. “Let’s be honest with each other from now on. About everything.”

“Agreed,” said Ulric. “And, now, you should really talk to Neville.”

“I’ve tried,” Felicity said miserably. “He acts like I’m not even there.”

“Keep trying,” Ulric insisted. “He’ll come around.”

. . .  
Despite Ulric’s encouragement, Neville wasn’t coming around. Whenever Felicity attempted to talk to him, he would gather up his things and hurry away. If she followed him, he would simply pretend the chair she occupied was empty.

In fact, it wasn’t until the morning after he, Harry, and Hermione served their detention that he spoke to her at all.

The morning of the detention, Felicity had seen the letters arrive informing the three of when and where their detention would be. Neville visibly paled when he read (as Felicity learned from Hermione) that their detention would be at eleven o’clock that night and that Filch would be involved.

All day, Felicity had worried about what Neville would be doing, to the point of nearly sneaking out after him to offer support. Ulric, however, convinced her that the risk wouldn’t be worth the possible benefits and suggested maybe Neville’s punishment wouldn’t be so bad and he’d forgive her after it was over…?

The hours crept by. Felicity forced herself to stay awake, trying to tackle a last-minute Astronomy chart and listening to George (or was it Fred?) talk to her about an idea for…honestly, she wasn’t paying enough attention to actually know what his idea was. After thirty minutes or so, the red-haired twin gave up trying to keep Felicity’s attention and returned to his identical counterpart across the room.

Slowly, the common room emptied. Ron, recently returned from the Hospital Wing, was the only person who remained – he had fallen asleep on one of his open textbooks. Sleep attempted to claim Felicity, too. It took a great deal of focus to force her eyes open whenever they started to drift closed. Midnight came and went. Finally, Felicity gathered up her things and climbed the stairs to her dormitory, thinking she’d get up when Hermione returned from detention.

She must’ve been more exhausted than she realized, however, for it was well past sunrise when she woke the next morning. Irritated with herself, Felicity quickly dressed and hurried down to the common room. It was nearly empty – there were a couple of third years chatting by the fire and a group of seventh years at one of the tables, studying for the N.E.W.T. exams.

Just as Felicity was about to head down to the Great Hall and search, Ulric entered the common room, a half-eaten piece of toast in his hand. When he spotted her, Ulric grinned and said, “Alright, Felicity? Want to kip under the big tree by the lake? It’s a beautiful day out.”

“Not right now,” said Felicity quickly. “Have you seen Neville?”

“No,” answered Ulric, looking disappointed. “I don’t think he’s left the dormitory, in fact. He definitely wasn’t at breakfast. Are you sure you don’t want to go? We could trade off – I’ll help you with Transfiguration, you help me with Herbology.”

“Maybe later. I really need to talk to Neville.”

“Okay. I’ll be by the lake if you need me, then.”

Felicity turned and stared at the steps leading up to the boys’ dormitory. It was almost certainly against the rules for girls to enter the boys’ dormitory, but Felicity decided to take the risk. Checking that no one was paying attention, she slipped up the stairs and cracked the door open, peering inside.

The boys’ room was a mirror image of the girls, but slightly messier. The circle of four-poster beds were all unmade and random belongings were strewn about the room. The farthest bed from the door was the only one occupied – a telltale lump was beneath the red blanket, quivering and sniffling. A frog was croaking softly from somewhere – Trevor, most likely.

“Neville?” Felicity called softly.

“Go away,” came Neville’s muffled voice from beneath the blanket.

“Neville…” Easing the door open a little more, Felicity slid into the room and shut the door behind her. After letting her eyes adjust to the semi-dark, Felicity crossed to Neville’s bed and gingerly perched on the edge. “Neville, are you alright?”

Another sniffle, followed by, “What do you care?”

Biting her lip, Felicity said, “It’s my fault. I should’ve gotten into trouble, too, and I should’ve been with you last night. They probably made you do something awful.”

“We had to go into the forest,” muttered Neville. “With Malfoy.”

Felicity hadn’t heard that Malfoy had been caught. The joy at this news wasn’t enough to break through the haze of guilt that consumed her. “I’m so sorry, Neville. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Neville was silent. Fighting back tears, Felicity said, “I’ll go to McGonagall, if you’d like. Tell her what happened.”

“Then we’d just lose more House Points.”

“I could spend a night in the forest.”

Neville’s face appeared halfway from beneath the blankets. With watery eyes, he looked at Felicity for the first time in days. “You’d do that?”

“I’d deserve it. I shouldn’t have left you to get in trouble alone. I’m really, really sorry, Neville, I swear.”

Finally, Neville sat up. He looked a mess. His eyes were red from crying and he’d missed a button on his pyjama top. Felicity felt a swell of guilt and pity, prompting her to say, “I really want to make it up to you. Is there anything I can do?”

Sniffling, Neville said, “If…if you could hex Malfoy, that’d be nice.”

Felicity laughed. “I can do that. Or Ulric, since he knows better spells. Maybe he knows that Curse of the Bogies.”

“I really just want people to stop hating me,” said Neville. “No one talks to me but you.”

“And Ulric. Harry, Ron, and Hermione.”

“They don’t _like_ me, though.”

More guilt. Felicity often wondering if she _liked_ Neville all that much – they had an occasional chat, but mostly they just did homework, Felicity contributing quite a bit more in most cases. But she did enjoy his company and, considering this, said, “I like you, Neville.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We’re friends.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“Of course not.”

To Felicity’s horror, Neville’s eyes filled with tears. Before she quite knew what was happening, Neville’s head had landed on her shoulder and he was crying against her neck. Uncomfortable and not quite sure how to react to this strange turn of events, Felicity awkwardly patted Neville’s back until he regained control of himself.

“Sorry,” Neville sniffled. “It’s just…I’m so bad at everything. And the last week has been horrible. And last night, Malfoy was a nightmare and the forest was terrifying.”

“I’m sorry,” Felicity replied, not sure what else to say.

Neville, however, seemed to have recovered. Wiping his face with his sleeves, he said in an almost-cheery voice, “Want to get some breakfast? I haven’t eaten since yesterday’s…”

“Sure. Meet you downstairs?”

“Alright.”

With that, Felicity left the boys’ dormitory and back down the stairs, trying to look innocent. Her plan was foiled, however, when she bumped into Harry, on his way up. He looked confused when he saw who he’d bumped into – rightly so, Felicity thought.

“Sorry, just, erm…had to talk to Neville,” explained Felicity blushingly.

“Okay,” said Harry.

Sensing Harry’s gloom, Felicity worked her face into what she hoped was an encouraging smile and said, “I don’t blame you, by the way. You had your reasons for being out.”

Then Felicity stepped around Harry, leaving him gawking at her as she vanished down the stairs, feeling a hundred times lighter than she had all week.


	19. Calm Before the Storm

Exam week reared its head like an enraged Norwegian Ridgeback, sending Felicity into a near-panic. Summer weather had come, bringing a wave of heat into the corridors and making the written exams miserable to sit through. They spent hours bent over parchment with their new, Anti-Cheating quills and trying to remember names and components and dates.

In the practical exams, Professor Flitwick declared Felicity’s tap-dancing pineapple the best he’d seen in ten years. Professor McGonagall, however, pronounced Felicity’s snuffbox, which she’d Transfigured from a mouse, merely satisfactory – but she did comment on Felicity’s great improvement and offered her a small smile. Felicity was able to easily recall the ingredients for her Forgetfulness Potion, but had a hard time concentrating on what order to add them as Professor Snape breathed down their necks.

Ulric found new companionship with Hermione, who he often chatted with after exams to go over the questions and comment on how they’d each fared. Felicity, finding this pointless and stressful, spent her time between each exam cramming for the next one.

By the time their last exam, History of Magic, came around, Felicity was more than ready to be done. For one excruciating hour of quills scratching on parchment, Professor Binns announced the end of the exam and Felicity, like her classmates, let out a cheer.

They were done at last! Even Neville was cautiously cheerful, feeling that he hadn’t done nearly as badly as he’d expected. He tried to talk to Felicity after the exam, but was whisked off by Seamus and Dean, who seemed to have finally forgiven him. Since Ulric was still talking rapidly to Hermione, Felicity packed up her bag and headed outside, seeking a breeze to break up the dry heat.

Many students were lounging on the grounds or by the lake. Felicity spotted Fred, George, and Lee Jordan by the lake’s edge, tickling the tentacles of the giant squid. Too scared of the squid to join them, Felicity sat down in the shade of a tree nearby and let her mind wander. Soon, she would be boarding the Hogwarts Express and returning home, where she would spend two-and-a-half glorious months relaxing with her family.

If Uncle Markus didn’t get in the way. Unfortunately, Felicity knew he probably would find a way to insert himself into their holiday, which meant Sebastian would be around, as well. She decided she would be polite to him, for Markus’ sake, but otherwise ignore him. Hopefully that would get her through the unpleasant parts of summer.

Felicity jumped as a cheery voice above her said, “Cloud-gazing?”

Opening her eyes, Felicity saw one of the twins standing over her. Letting her eyes drift closed again, she answered, “No. Just thinking.”

“What, after exams? Mental, you are.” The twin flopped down on the grass next to her, leaning back on his palms and looking up at the sky. “Thinking about anything interesting?”

“Holidays,” Felicity answered.

“Big plans?”

“Not really. Sleeping in, avoiding my uncle, trying not to let Felix break my wand, resisting the temptation to hex Sebastian.”

“Sounds like you need a holiday from your holiday.”

“I might, by the end of it.”

“Maybe you could come round to visit,” he suggested. “Fred and I’ve been working on some top secret stuff. Might let you test some of it out.”

“Sounds…dangerous,” said Felicity, cracking an eyelid and peering curiously at George.

“It’s not fun if it’s safe.”

Felicity snorted. “You are a _terrible_ influence.”

“You’ve got me there,” replied George, laying a hand on his chest. “Trouble is my middle name, after all.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Mimicking George’s relaxed position, Felicity asked, “What about you? Big summer planned?”

“Oh, you know. Tricks, hijinks, general trouble-making. Did I mention trouble-”

“Yeah, you mentioned it’s your middle name,” Felicity chuckled. “Git.”

“Hey, name-calling’s not nice!”

“Neither is lying.”

“I never lie.”

Felicity gawked at George. “I seriously can’t imagine how you just said that with a straight face.”

“Practice, practice, practice,” George grinned. “It’s not lying if _you_ believe it.”

“I wish I had your talent,” Felicity sighed.

“Which one? I’ve got so many.”

“Oh, you know, for being so good at talking out your ass.”

George poked Felicity in the ribs. “That’s not nice.”

It was Felicity’s turn to grin. “Did I hurt ickle-Georgie’s feelings?”

Grin turning to a pout, George heaved a heavy sigh and said, “Alright. You’ve definitely asked for it.”

“Asked for wh-”

Before Felicity could finish her question, George had given her a shove, sending her toppling back into the grass. As she sat herself back up, Felicity started to demand what his problem was but was promptly cut off as he easily pushed her back down.

“Stop that!” she exclaimed, trying and failing to sit back up.

George laughed and offered Felicity a hand, which she reluctantly took. After a moment’s paused, Felicity shoved George in the chest, making him land on his back in the grass. He seemed to be momentarily stunned. Then, eyes locking on Felicity, he said, “Oh, you’ve done it now.”

With a shriek, Felicity leapt to her feet and ran. George, several inches taller than her, quickly caught up. Although she veered this way and that, Felicity couldn’t shake him. She wove between students, nearly taking down Ron as he, Harry and Hermione headed toward Hagrid’s, and ran back toward the lake. Her mistake, however, was getting too close to Fred and Lee, who were sitting at the lake’s edge with their shoes off, heels half-buried in the mud.

As Felicity passed, Fred’s leg came up and she tripped. Although she didn’t fall face-first in the mud, her fumble gave George just enough time to catch up. Felicity gave another shriek as George wrapped his arms around her middle, hoisting her up and holding her against his chest.

“What do we think, boys?” George asked Fred and Lee. “Into the lake?”

“No!” Felicity cried, struggling in George’s grip.

“Maybe just into the mud,” was Fred’s suggestion.

“So help me, I will come to your house and break all of your stuff,” Felicity threatened.

“Our stuff’s already broken.”

“But you will come for a visit?” George asked, his tone teasing.

“If you don’t throw me in the lake or the mud, I will,” said Felicity quickly.

“Brilliant. We’ll see you over the summer then.”

With that, George set her down – ankle-deep in lake water.

“Ugh!” Felicity exclaimed, turning to glare at George. “My shoes!”

“They’ll dry out, don’t get your wand in a twist,” called Fred.

Shaking her head, Felicity looked at George, who was grinning and looking rather pleased with himself. His guard was down and Felicity, taking advantage, kicked water in his direction. The splash soaked his pants and he swore before lunging at Felicity.

The chase continued for some time, both of them floundering through the shallow water while attempting to splash the other. By the time they’d reached the other side of the lake, they were out of breath from the exercise and from laughing. Unable to breathe, they sat in the grass, in the shade from some overgrown bushes.

“You know, I think I’ll miss you this summer,” said Felicity, once she’d caught her breath.

“That’s the point of visiting,” George pointed out. Felicity smiled and shook her head. On a whim, she leaned her head on George’s shoulder and they sat in silence, looking out at the lake and watching the students wandering about the grounds on the opposite shore.

. . .  
Not long after that, Felicity returned to the common room. She saw no one else on her way – everyone was still enjoying the post-exam euphoria. She had just reached the portrait hole and given the password when raised voices met her ears. Pausing, Felicity leaned closer to the edge of the door, which she’d only opened a crack.

“-before I get to the Stone, well, I’ll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it’s only dying a bit later than I would have, because I’m never going over to the Dark Side! I’m going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me. Voldemort killed my parents, remember?”

Felicity froze, a gasp sticking in her throat, and pushed the door closed.

Voldemort. They were talking about Voldemort. Voldemort and the Stone – the Sorcerer’s Stone, Felicity assumed. She understood then – Snape, lover of the Dark Arts, wanted the Stone to bring back Voldemort. And Harry was going to try and stop him. But how? That three-headed dog and possibly other things protected the Sorcerer’s Stone – how were three first years supposed to get to it?

Scared, Felicity turned and rushed down the hall – she had to find Ulric. He would know what to do.

. . .  
“Tell Professor Dumbledore,” said Ulric the moment Felicity was finished speaking.

It had taken nearly an hour to find him – he’d been in the owlery, writing a letter to his mom amide the soft hooting and lamp-like eyes of the school owls. They’d gone to the Great Hall, which was just beginning to fill for dinner.

“But Harry and the others will get into trouble,” protested Felicity.

“Getting in trouble is better than being dead,” Ulric pointed out. “And if we go to Dumbledore, they’ll only get in trouble for _planning_ to break rules. Not that it matters – if You-Know-Who is involved, we’re all in way over our heads.”

“I know,” said Felicity anxiously. She glanced down the table at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were sitting apart from everyone else. Unlike Neville, they hadn’t yet escaped the shunning from the rest of the students. “This is dangerous. If Snape catches us on our way to see Dumbledore-”

“We wouldn’t say that’s what we’re doing.” Ulric looked up at the high table, where the headmaster’s seat was empty. Snape, several seats down, was looking particularly sour.

“Maybe we should talk to Harry,” Felicity said slowly. “Maybe they’re wrong about all this.”

“It’s an awful big risk to take for something you’re not certain about.”

Felicity looked at the trio again and nodded. “You’re right. We need to tell Dumbledore. Do you think he’s in his office?”

“Must be.” Ulric hesitated. “Er, any idea where that is?”

Felicity shook her head. Her eyes fell on Professor McGonagall. “Maybe we could ask McGonagall?”

“That might work. I’ll be right back.”

Ulric got up and strode up to the head table, where he talked to the Gryffindor Head of House for two seemingly tense minutes. Felicity wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Professor McGonagall’s lips so tightly pinched, her nostrils flared and her brows furrowed. She seemed to tell Ulric off – he looked thoroughly chastised when he sat back down next to Felicity.

“He’s in London, meeting with the Minister of Magic,” said Ulric quietly. “Apparently Harry and the others already asked her about him. She said students need to leave school affairs to the staff and she was going to give detention to the next person who bothered her about Professor Dumbledore.”

“Damn,” Felicity muttered. “If Harry and the others already told McGonagall about the Stone and Snape then…then there really is nothing else to do but try and stop Snape.”

Whatever Ulric had expected her to say, that wasn’t it. His eyes widened and he hissed, “Are you mad? You want to not only let Hermione, Ron, and _Harry Potter_ go after Snape, but you want to go yourself?”

“Yes,” said Felicity. “They’ll need all the help they can get.”

“This is crazy, Felicity,” Ulric pressed. “We don’t know anything about what’s guarding that Stone. We don’t know how to get past some great beast guarding a trapdoor!”

Felicity shushed him, looking around nervously, but everyone was too engulfed in the feast and their own excitement to have noticed. “You don’t have to come with me.”

Ulric fixed her with a blank stare, as though she’d just said something very stupid. “Right. I’ll stay in the common room while you try and take on a three-headed dog with red sparks. Blimey, Felicity, thought you’d have learned something about friendship by now.”

Shaking her head, Felicity wiped away a tear that had somehow trailed down her cheek. “Alright, so right after dinner, we’ll head to the third floor. I know a secret passage where we can wait to catch them before they go in.”

“I’ll meet you there – need to go to the library.”

“Why? Exams are over.”

Ulric laughed, but it wasn’t exactly cheerful. “Need to see if I can figure out what keeps a three-headed dog from tearing you to shreds.”

“Oh,” said Felicity, not sure what to say to that. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Ulric, abandoning his half-full plate, rose from the table and headed out of the hall, his appetite apparently lost. Felicity, heart pounding, pushed her own plate away and lay her head down on the table, quietly hoping she wasn’t about to lead her best friend to a bloody death.


	20. Down the Rabbit Hole

Felicity and Ulric were on high alert as they sat in the small hidden corridor just behind a statue of a one-eyed wizard. It was far past bedtime – they could only see each other because their eyes had adjusted as darkness crept over them.

Ulric had found no information on three-headed dogs in the library and hadn’t dared asked Madam Pince if she knew of any books that might mention them. So he’d arrived at the corridor, quietly calling for Felicity, until she’d emerged from her hiding spot and ushered him inside.

They were on high alert, listening for the trio.

“Do you think they’re still coming?” Felicity whispered to Ulric. “What time is it?”

“Dunno,” answered Ulric. “Maybe we should-”

“Wait!” Felicity hisses, holding a hand out to silence Ulric. They both heard it – the creak and thud of a door shutting. “Damn, was that them?”

She and Ulric exchanged a worried look. Exhaling slowly, Ulric said, “One way to find out.”

Cautiously, the two stole from behind the statue and looked up and down the corridor, finding it abandoned. It was several meters down the hall to the corridor entrance. They reached it quickly and tried the handle – locked.

“Shoot,” whispered Felicity. “Do you remember-”

“Oh, move,” Ulric muttered, nudging Felicity aside as he rolled his eyes and drew his wand. He tapped the lock smartly and said, “ _Alohomora._ ”

Felicity had just wrapped her hand around the handle when a voice just behind them said, quite clearly, “What the bloody hell are you doing?”

Ulric and Felicity spun around, horrified. Had Snape caught them? Were they going to be expelled? Out after hours _and_ trying to enter the forbidden corridor – they’d be on the train home tonight.

But it wasn’t Snape – it was Sebastian.

He was standing with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes flitting between the two first-years. He wasn’t in his school robes, like they were – instead, he wore khaki pants and a green sweater. Felicity crossed her arms, mirroring Sebastian’s stance, and said, “None of your business.”

“Trying to lose your House more points?” Sebastian said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Your little friends already handed us the House Cup on a platter.”

“We don’t give a damn about the bloody Cup,” Ulric snapped. “Now go away.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” Sebastian persisted.

Felicity, in no mood to play Sebastian’s game, drew her wand and pointed it at his nose. “Go away, Sebastian. This is important and I don’t have time to tell you off tonight.”

“Blimey, Felicity,” Sebastian murmured, instantly losing his previous swagger. “Seriously, what’s going on? Why are you trying to get in there? It’s out-of-bounds.”

A bark sounded on the other side of the heavy door, momentarily drawing all three students’ attention. Felicity shot Ulric an urgent look. “They need our help.

“Just go back to bed,” Ulric hissed at Sebastian. “We don’t have time to explain.”

Needing no other prompting, Felicity pulled open the door and hurried inside, Ulric on their heels. To her dismay, Sebastian squeezed in behind them, his jaw going slack when he caught sight of the monstrosity waiting for them.

The three-headed dog looked drowsy, like it had just woken from a nap. It’s eyes were trained on the three new intruders. Felicity quickly scanned the room and caught sight of a harp and a flute at the monster’s feet.

“Music!” she exclaimed. “Music must calm it down!”

“We’ll never get to those instruments,” Ulric moaned.

Felicity looked at Sebastian. “Can you conjure one?”

“I- I don’t know a spell for that.”

The dog was growling, bristling up and lurching toward the group. Panicked, Felicity opened her mouth and sang-

_“When I get to the bottom,  
I go back to the top of the slide  
Where I stop and I turn and I go for a ride  
‘Till I get to the bottom and I see you again_

_Don’t you want me to love you  
I’m coming down fast, but I’m miles above you  
Tell me, tell me, tell me  
Come on, tell me the answer  
You may be a lover but you’re no dancer”_

Felicity sang the upbeat song a bit slower, softer – it was the first thing she could think of. Ulric and Sebastian stared with wide eyes as the dog’s eyelids drooped and it slowly sank to the floor.

“Holy-”

“Shh,” Ulric interrupted Sebastian. Grabbing Felicity’s shoulder, he said, “Don’t stop.”

Felicity followed Ulric to the trap door, stepping carefully around one of the dog’s paws.

“Wait,” Sebastian whispered urgently. “What the hell are we doing?”

“ _We_ are going down here,” Ulric snapped. “ _You_ can get the hell out of here.”

“Not likely. I’m not letting a couple of kids-”

Felicity kicked Sebastian in the shin, distracting him from Ulric. With a grimace, Ulric lowered himself into the hole and dropped. Sebastian whipped around, swearing. Felicity waved her arms toward the darkness with as much silent sarcasm as she could manage. The gesture clearly said _after you._

Sebastian stared at Felicity, still singing _The Beatles_ as softly as she dared, then muttered, “Oh, bloody hell.”

He plunged through the trapdoor, a hoarse shout following him down. Felicity waited a few seconds, then followed. Air rushed past her as she fell, the last line of the song stretching into a shriek. Then she landed on something soft and rather lumpy. Ulric was next to her, trying with some difficulty to stand up.

“Why-can’t-I-move?” Ulric gasped.

“ _Lumos_ ,” Sebastian said somewhere to Felicity’s right.

The light from Sebastian’s wand illuminated a small chamber, filled with a gnarled plant that covered most of the floor and had broken their fall. Tendrils of vine had wrapped themselves around the trio and were tightening by the second.

“Oh, no!” Felicity gasped, beginning to struggle.

“Don’t,” Sebastian called. “Devil’s Snare – panicking makes it work faster! I’ll just-”

But, as Sebastian started to raise his arm, he found it crippled by a curling tendril, twisting it until it was impossible for him to keep his grip. His wand tumbled into his lap.

“What do we do?” Ulric cried. A creeping vine was wrapped around his throat, kept from choking him only by a hand he’d managed to wedge between his neck and the vine.

“I don’t remember – it’s first year stuff, shouldn’t you know?” Sebastian retorted.

Felicity ignored them both, trying desperately to remember. A damp tendril was creeping up her side and, thinking of plants in her mother’s garden, she shouted, “What about light? Heat?”

“Yes, that’s it!”

“Brilliant, Felicity!” Ulric shouted. Directing his wand at the heart of the Devil’s Snare, he shouted, “ _Incendio_!”

The plant instantly recoiled, its creepers loosening and twisting away. The three stumbled toward the door off the hall, putting a good distance between themselves and the plant before coming to a stop.

“Why…the bloody hell…did we do that?” Sebastian gasped, angry now. “This is mental.”

“We’re protecting the Sorcerer’s Stone,” Felicity snapped. “Sn-Someone’s trying to steal it, to bring back Voldemort.”

Sebastian visibly cringed at the name, but seemed not to notice Felicity correcting herself – she knew how he rather idolized Snape and worried he might react violently to the accusation. “Why didn’t you go to Dumbledore?”

“He’s not here, and the Stone’s going to be stolen _tonight_.”

“But surely one of the other teachers-”

“No one was going to help us,” said Ulric shortly. “So are you going to, or should we just leave you here with the death plant?”

Sebastian fumed for several moments before crossing his arms and saying, “Can’t let you go wandering under the school alone, can I?”

“Sure,” said Felicity, rolling her eyes. Looking at Ulric, she added, “Come on. Harry and the others are already ahead of us.”

“Harry? Harry Potter? _He’s_ down here?”

But Felicity and Ulric ignored Sebastian. As the crept down the hall, Ulric glanced at Felicity and, stifling a laugh, said, “I can’t believe you did that.”

“What?”

“Got us past that thing by singing bloody _Helter Skelter_.”

Blushing slightly, Felicity said defensively, “It was the first thing I could think of.”

“It was brilliant.”

After a few more minutes, they began to hear a soft rustling from ahead. Looking anxiously at Ulric, Felicity whispered, “What d’you reckon that is?”

Ulric only shrugged.

At the end of the passage, they found themselves in a high-ceilinged room, brightly lit and filled with gently fluttering birds…or were they?

“Something’s up,” said Felicity, pointing. “What are those?”

“Keys,” Sebastian said. “Probably for that door.”

Together, they looked at the closed door across the room.

“Oh, dear,” Felicity whispered, staring up at the cloud of winged keys. Ulric crossed the room, trying the door. Sebastian wandered over to one wall, where he picked up something and turned to face Felicity. It was a broomstick.

“No,” Felicity groaned.

“Yes,” smirked Sebastian, tossing her the broom. She caught it was fumbling hands. Sebastian tossed one to Ulric, too, then selected one of his own. “Okay, let’s find this key. It’s been used once, it’s probably looking a bit ruffled.”

Laughing at his own joke, Sebastian kicked off from the ground.

“I hate flying,” Ulric muttered.

“Me, too,” replied Felicity.

Reluctantly, they clamored onto their brooms and followed Sebastian into the midst of the keys, searching for one that looked slightly used.

“There!” Ulric shouted, pointing to a particularly battered-looking key. He lunged, but the key flitted out of his reach. “Damn, they’re fast.”

Sebastian drew his wand. “Get under. Be ready to catch.”

Following the key several meters below, Felicity watched as Sebastian considered a spell. Then, without warning, he barked, “ _Expelliarmus_!”

A jet of red shot from his wand and hit the key, bashing it into the wall. Apparently stunned, it fell – right into Felicity’s outstretched hand.

“Yes!” Ulric cheered.

He and Sebastian drifted back to the floor and followed Felicity to the door where, with some difficulty, she worked the key into the lock and twisted. She let go at once and the key flew away, looking very ruffled indeed. Glancing worriedly at her companions, Felicity slowly opened the door to the next chamber.

The sight before them was astonishing – life-sized chessmen were scattered across a giant chessboard, some standing, others laying on the side as though out cold. A glint of red was visible to one side and Felicity gasped, “It’s Ron!”

She and Ulric rushed across the board, Sebastian trailing behind. The giant chessmen turned their heads, watching them pass, but made no move to stop them. They seemed to be resetting themselves from what must’ve been Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s game.

“Ron,” said Felicity gently, crouching by the red-head’s side and giving his shoulder a shake.

Ulric crouched next to her, holding a hand over Ron’s mouth. “He’s breathing.”

“But where are Harry and Hermione?”

“Gone on, I expect,” said Sebastian, looking toward the opposite door. “If You-Know-Who’s involved, can’t afford to waste time.”

“He’s _hurt_ ,” Felicity snapped.

Softly, Ulric whispered to Felicity, “He’s right. We need to move on.”

“We can’t just leave Ron.”

“Then you go. I’ll stay with him.”

“No,” Felicity breathed. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Yes, you can. You have to. Help Harry, I’ve got Ron.”

Reluctantly, Felicity stood. Sparing Sebastian barely a glance, she spat, “Come on.”

Sebastian followed without a backward glance. As they entered the next passageway, Sebastian said, “What if we’re too late and You-Know-Who is alive at the end of this path?”

“Then…we’ll try to survive,” was all Felicity could manage.

She let out a gasp as Sebastian grabbed her arm, twisting her around to face him and saying urgently, “Listen to me. If You-Know-Who _is_ at the end of this tunnel and we die…you have to know that I…”

Felicity jerked away, all her poorly suppressed anger and hurt boiling over as she said, “Are you kidding? Now? You want to do this _now_?”

“For once, would you just _listen_?” snarled Sebastian. “I’m trying to say that I’m sorry. I turned my back on family and I hate myself for it. You kept my secrets, even when I turned my back on you, and you…you might be the only chance for a _real_ friend I’ll ever have. Can you please, in case we die up ahead, consider forgiving me?”

“Well…” Felicity hesitated. “I’ll forgive you…if you promise next year will be different. No more ignoring me, no more laughing at me with your friends. No more lies.”

“No more lies,” Sebastian promised. “So I guess we should move on.”

Sebastian started up the hall, Felicity trailing after him, but he paused after a few steps. Turning, he studied Felicity for a moment. His gaze was scrutinous and Felicity was just about to ask what he was looking at when he pitched forward. One of Sebastian’s hands clasped around the back of Felicity’s head, pulling her in and crushing his lips to hers.

Felicity instantly protested, raising her fists to shove against his chest, but Sebastian had already pulled away and was hurrying up the corridor. Over his shoulder, he called, “Couldn’t let you die without being kissed!”

Enraged, Felicity barreled after him, a nasty hex already on her tongue. She bounded into the next chamber and froze by Sebastian’s side, paralyzed by the sight before them.

It was a troll – even more massive than the one on Halloween. It was sitting in the middle of the chamber, its meaty fingers prodding a bloody lump on its head. It looked very angry. At the sound of Felicity’s footsteps, the troll looked in their direct, its beady eyes narrowed.

“Oh, hell,” Sebastian muttered.

The troll lurched to its feet and thundered across the chamber, raising its club. Felicity and Sebastian leapt apart, the club crashing down and cracking the floor between them.

“Oy, this way!” Sebastian shouted, sending up sparks to get the thing’s attention.

“No!” Felicity cried, but the troll was already lumbering toward Sebastian. Its great back was to Felicity and she raised her wand, shouting, “ _Incendio_!” Flames burst from the tip of her wand, licking at the troll’s back. It roared and swung around, it’s club raised.

“ _Rictusempra_!

Hit from behind, the troll began to make a choking noise as the tickling charm did its work. Sebastian darted around the great, lumpy legs and grabbed Felicity’s arm. “The exit!” he shouted, gesturing toward the far door. If it was locked, they’d be trapped.

As they made a dash for the door, the troll seemed to shake off the spell and bellowed as it swung the club. It caught Sebastian in the side, knocking him into the wall. There was a soft clink as his wand hit the floor and rolled away.

Felicity spun around, seeing the troll advancing on Sebastian, its club over its head, and pointed her wand at the club itself. She didn’t know the word for the spell she wanted, but she could see it in her mind – the club growing skinny, green, scaly…

And, without a word, Felicity saw the club make the very change she had pictured. The troll brought the club down, but it was no longer a club – it was a snake, wrapping itself around the trolls massive arm. Angry and confused, the troll began to wave its arm around frantically.

“Leg-Binding Curse!” Sebastian called.

Without hesitation, Felicity cried, “ _Locomotor Mortis_!

The troll’s legs snapped together. Thrown off and unable to balance, the troll smashed into the wall and slumped to the floor. The force of the impact had knocked it unconscious.

Trembling, Felicity slowly crossed the chamber and offered Sebastian her hand. He took it, allowing her to help him stand. For a long moment, they stared at the troll, hands still clasped. A flurry of movement made them jump and, a second later, Hermione appeared through the door they had been about to enter.

“Felicity?” Hermione gasped. “What-”

“We came to help,” explained Felicity. “Where’s Harry?”

“He went on! There was a potion and there was only enough for one – we’ve got to get an owl to Dumbledore – Harry’s trying to hold him off-”

“Let’s go,” Felicity said instantly. If they couldn’t follow Harry, they could go back and help Ron. She followed back into the chamber with the chessboard – Ulric looked up.

“Thank God,” he said, raising his voice to be heard across the room. “I can’t bring him around.”

Hermione crouched by Ron’s side and Felicity turned to Sebastian. “Do you think Harry’s going to be alright?”

“I don’t know,” Sebastian answered softly. “Nice job on the troll, Felicity. Your Transfiguration – you did a nonverbal spell!”

“I didn’t even know I could.”

“It takes powerful magic and discipline. You must have a good tutor.”

Felicity’s eyes snapped to Sebastian’s face. He was grinning. “Have you-”

“Felicity,” Ulric interrupted. He appeared to have left Ron in Hermione’s capable hands. “We need to get the brooms from the key room. That’s how we’ll get out.”

“I’ll help,” Sebastian volunteered, taking off toward the key room. Ulric, looking bewildered, followed.

It took a painfully long time for Ron to wake up and, even then, he leaned heavily on Hermione as they got him onto a broom and began the much-faster journey back up the passageways, out through the open trapdoor and, hitting the door they’d left ajar, barreling into the third floor corridor, crashing into the wall opposite the door and landing heavily on the floor.

“Dumbledore,” Ron wheezed, stumbling to his feet.

“Thank you so much for coming after us,” Hermione said quickly to Felicity, Ulric, and Sebastian. “Get back to the common room – we don’t all need to be caught!”

Felicity started to protest, but Ulric grabbed her elbow and said, “Thank you! Good luck!”

As Hermione and Ron hurried away, Felicity turned on Ulric and said, “Why did you do that?”

“They’re right – there’s nothing else we can do except get in more trouble.”

Reluctantly, Felicity nodded. Turning to Sebastian, she said, “I know we sort of forced you along, but thank you.”

“Glad I could help. I’m happy you’re safe,” said Sebastian sincerely.

She stared at him for a few seconds, reliving the past hours in those seconds, then turned and followed Ulric down the corridor, toward Gryffindor Tower. Neither of them spoke until they were safely back in the common room, after having to wake up a very disgruntled Fat Lady.

“I won’t be able to sleep,” said Felicity miserably.

Ulric shook his head. “Me, either. Let’s sit out here and wait.”

With a sigh, Felicity settled onto one of the couches by the fire. Ulric sat next to her and Felicity took his hand. They waited until well-past dawn, when they would finally receive news about what had happened down in the chamber.


	21. End of Term

By the next morning, the entire school was buzzing over what Harry and his friends had done. Not only had Harry survived – he’d kept the Stone from being stolen by, of all people, Professor Quirrell.

“Quirrell!” Ulric had exclaimed. “I never would’ve thought-”

“But he was sort of possessed, wasn’t he?”

“Not possessed. More like…enticed.”

While there was no mention of Felicity, Ulric, or Sebastian’s involvement, they found they were rather unbothered by it. Sebastian, of course, would be ridiculed by his fellow Slytherins if word got out he’d helped a bunch of Gryffindor first years – even Felicity couldn’t demand that of him. Ulric was just relieved not to have died. And, as for Felicity, she was just glad everyone was alright and Voldemort, once again, was gone and hopefully not coming back.

Felicity and Ulric went down to breakfast the morning before the end-of-term feast, waving cheerfully to Hermione and Ron down the table, and sat across from Neville, who was sitting with his head in his hands, looking thoughtful.

“Morning, Neville,” said Felicity, catching his attention.

“Morning,” was his reply.

“Everything alright?” Ulric asked.

Neville shrugged. “Just nervous. Exam results tomorrow.”

“You did fine, I’m sure,” said Felicity encouragingly.

“We heard what happened,” Ulric added, making Felicity kick him under the table. “What?”

“Oh,” said Neville, looking down. “It’s so embarrassing.”

“It was brave,” Felicity disagreed. “You were just trying to stand up for our House.”

“It didn’t feel brave, laying there on the floor until one of the girls tripped over me.”

“Remind me never to cross Hermione.”

Apparently wanting to change the subject, Neville said, “Crazy about Quirrell, isn’t it?”

Felicity caught Ulric’s eye. “Yeah, pretty crazy.”

Ulric was about to say something else when someone dropped into the seat on Felicity’s other side, letting out a tired groan. “This school needs coffee.”

“Sebastian,” gasped Felicity, looking quickly at Ulric and Neville for their reactions. Neville gawked, but Ulric just shrugged. It seemed that he had come to accept Sebastian as a part of their lives, Slytherin or not. Tentatively, Felicity asked, “What’re you doing? Why aren’t you with your friends?”

“I’m sitting with them,” said Sebastian simply.

Turning in her seat, Felicity caught sight of Katrina glaring in her direction. She quickly turned back around, heart beating uncomfortably hard against her ribs. “What about Katrina?”

“We’re done,” Sebastian shrugged. “I told her we were friends and she couldn’t handle that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

And that was all. Sebastian joined them for lunch, as well, a bit more awake than he had been that morning. He accompanied them down to the lake after, where they sat soaking up the sun and talking about the things they’d encountered beneath the school.

“I’m glad we didn’t have to play chess,” Sebastian was saying. “I’ve got no patience for it.”

“It’s about strategy,” said Ulric.

Felicity sighed. “It’s boring. Games are supposed to be fun.”

“Using your mind is fun.”

“ _How_ do you put up with him?” Sebastian asked Felicity.

“I tune him out, mostly.”

Ulric glared at them. “Pardon me for wanting my free time to be mentally stimulating.”

“Exams are over, kid,” groaned Sebastian. “You can stop with the smart words.”

Felicity was quickly finding that conversations with Sebastian and Ulric usually went this way, with the two bickering about stupid things. Ulric’s pushy personality didn’t quite work with Sebastian’s laid-back one and it would definitely take some work getting used to the new addition to their group.

It was especially difficult when they walked into the Great Hall the next evening and saw it decked out in Slytherin’s green and silver. Sebastian bit back a grin and nudged Felicity. “I don’t see anyone mingling, so I supposed I’d better sit with my House.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” said Felicity half-heartedly.

She and Ulric wandered over to the Gryffindor table, squeezing into a spot between the Weasley twins and Percy.

“A bit late, are we?” asked Percy, giving them an irritated look.

“Someone fell asleep by the lake and is _very_ hard to wake up,” said Felicity, rolling her eyes in Ulric’s direction. Around them, people began to talk loudly, some standing up to get a look at whoever had just entered the Great Hall.

Harry, Felicity correctly guessed. More than ever, she was glad to have escaped the attention that he and his friends were receiving. Fortunately for Harry, Dumbledore soon stood up, causing the chatter to die away.

For a moment, Professor Dumbledore looked out upon the sea of students with a look that plainly said there was nowhere he’d rather be. Cheerfully, he said, “Another year gone! And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were. You have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…

“Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.”

The Slytherin table burst into cheers, some of them stomping their feet on the floor. Felicity stared down at her plate, trying not to be irritated at Sebastian for being one of them.

“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore. “However, recent events must be taken into account.”

Felicity’s head shot up. The Hall had gone silent, everyone staring at the headmaster.

“Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see, yes… First, to Mr. Ronald Weasley-”

Down the table, Ron nearly choked.

“-for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House fifty points.”

Next to her, amid the sudden cheers of the Gryffindors, Percy shouted, “My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall’s giant chess set!” Felicity had to lean away to keep from permanent hearing damage.

When the Hall quieted down, Dumbledore continued, “Second – to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points.”

“We’re up to four hundred twelve,” said Ulric. “That passes Hufflepuff.”

“Third – to Mr. Harry Potter… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points.”

“We’re tied with Slytherin!” Ulric gasped.

The cheers were nearly deafening. It took a very long time for silence to fall again and, when it did, Dumbledore went on, “There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies.” He gave a small smile. “But a great deal more to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.”

The Gryffindor table erupted. Students leapt from their seats – Neville, looking stunned, vanished under a pile of people hugging him. Felicity was one of few who didn’t stand – she was looking around for Sebastian. Across the hall, his expression was quite sour indeed. Then he was obscured as students from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff table also stood, just a pleased with Slytherin’s defeat as the Gryffindors.

“Which means,” Dumbledore called over the cheers and applause, “we need a little change of decoration.”

With a clap of Dumbledore’s hands, green-and-silver became red-and-gold; the Slytherin serpent was replaced by the Gryffindor lion. He made no attempt to say anything more – he returned to his seat and tucked into the food which had just appeared on the tables.

Felicity, while pleased that her House had won the Cup, was subdued in her celebrating. She had a nasty feeling this wasn’t going to sit well with Sebastian. It was hard to worry, though, with so much excitement around her and, once she started eating, Felicity forgot to think about her Slytherin friend and just enjoyed the celebration.

. . .  
The next few days were spent packing, students scrambling to find misplaced belongings, and preparing for the journey home. Exam results were passed out – Ulric had passed with some of the highest marks in class. Felicity had gotten good marks, as well, although she’d merely scraped by in a couple subjects. Even Neville had passed, a good Herbology mark making up for a horrid one in Potions.

A notice was handed out, reminding them not to use magic over the holidays, something that made Fred and George both sigh. “I always hope they’ll forget to give us these,” Fred had said. George had added, “Mischief is so much harder without magic.”

And suddenly they were gathering in the entrance hall, the first years following Hagrid down to the fleet of boats, and sailing across the lake. Then they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; Felicity and Ulric shared a compartment with the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. Felicity had avoided Sebastian since the feast – she made no attempt to find him on the train and he made no attempt to find her.

Felicity was too excited to see her family to worry about where Sebastian was. She’d see him soon enough, when Uncle Markus unavoidably forced himself into their company, bringing his reluctant ward along with him. She enjoyed the last afternoon with her friends, chatting and laughing as the Weasley twins picked on Ulric in their usual fashion.

They arrived at King’s Cross all-too-soon and yet not soon enough. Felicity bid her friends farewell as she left the compartment with her trunk and the basket that held Baltimore. The moment she stepped onto the platform, a nearby voice screamed, “Sissy!” and she was tackled by her brother. Over his head, Felicity saw her mom watching with a smile on her face.

Although she would miss Hogwarts terribly in the coming months, Felicity couldn’t deny how happy she was to be home.


End file.
